


Cursed Child: A Novelisation and Reimagining

by NathanielStephens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Fanon, M/M, Novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 75
Words: 82,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25164490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielStephens/pseuds/NathanielStephens
Summary: Nineteen years after the events of the Harry Potter series, Harry has grown up and started a family with his wife, Ginny. Their second child, Albus, discovers that he doesn't fit in at Hogwarts and plots with his unlikely friend, Scorpius Malfoy, and a mysterious squib, Delphi Diggory, to have a train-jumping, Polyjuicing, Time-Turning adventure with disastrous consequences.The following is an alternative retelling of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child to amend some of the more... unsavory elements. It follows the same story, scene-by-scene, but with tweaks here and there to make the story more palatable to fans. The dialogue is intended to be word-for-word transposed from the play. I do have a version of the script with the edits, but I am cautious about releasing it publicly for fear of copyright issues (as a lot of the play remains unchanged). Once rights to the perform the play are released, I may be more inclined to share it privately with parties wishing to perform it.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51





	1. Through the Barrier

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 1: Through the Barrier

For hundreds of years, Kings Cross station has found itself flooded with the most peculiar assortment of people every first of September. Families of school-age children arrive wearing ill-fitting and mismatched clothing and pushing trolleys with luggage and owls and broomsticks. Who these families are and where their children depart from remains a mystery to any of the workers or day-to-day passengers. These eccentric individuals don’t tend to engage with the sorts of people who wear sensible and coordinated clothing. The most anyone could glean about their destination was a so-called Platform Nine and Three Quarters, which ordinary people naturally assume to be non-existent (not that they would be allowed to leave the station with the memory of the mysterious platform).

But as you well know, Platform Nine and Three Quarters is indeed real, but to someone non-magically inclined—commonly referred to as a Muggle—the secret of accessing the hidden platform would be unknowable. Families of witches and wizards with the intent of sending their children off to school (like the one currently approaching) access Platform Nine and Three-Quarters by walking straight at the wall between Platform Nine and Platform Ten.

For any magical boy or girl of age eleven in Britain, today would be their first day attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and this was the case for Albus Potter. He strode through Kings Cross station half nervous and half excited, and pushing his loaded trolley. Albus had his mother’s round face and button nose and his father’s green eyes. Though unlike his mother or father, Albus had brown hair. He also had an elder brother, James, who had taken to teasing Albus as they approached the entrance to the platform.

James Potter had a penchant for misbehaving, much like his late grandfather and namesake, and enjoyed most of all being a constant source of frustration for Albus. Today, James was trying to convince his brother that he wouldn’t be a good fit for Gryffindor House, the House the Potters and Weasleys all joined at Hogwarts. Instead, James suggested Albus might be placed in Slytherin, the House notorious for being partial to Lord Voldemort, the darkest wizard ever known, and his followers. In fact, it was Albus Potter’s own father who had defeated Lord Voldemort nineteen years earlier.

These days, Harry Potter kept busy as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic, although presently, he carried his daughter Lily on his shoulder through Kings Cross station. Though the days since Voldemort’s demise were long gone, he remained a hero in the wizarding community. Harry’s appearance wasn’t as battle-hardened and intimidating as his legacy might lead you to believe. He had no immediately noticeable scars but for a lightning bolt-shaped one on his forehead which had all but diminished since Voldemort’s defeat. He wore round spectacles that covered his green eyes. His features were not menacing, rather, he was handsome, scrawny, and had untidy jet-black hair, all traits passed on to James. 

“Dad. He keeps saying it,” complained Albus.

“James, give it a rest,” warned Harry.

“I only said he _might_ be in Slytherin,” explained James. “And he might so...” Harry gave James a stern, disapproving look. “Fine,” James relented.

Albus felt a soft hand on his shoulder as they came to stop at the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Ginny Potter had the unique talent of being able to settle his nerves without saying so much as a word. Somehow her presence washed away Albus’s troubles without fail. Her kind face was by no means frail, and could be as fierce as she needed it to be. Lily most resembled her, particularly for having inherited her fiery red hair.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Albus asked.

“Every day if you want us to,” Ginny replied, smiling.

Albus shook his head, embarrassed. “No. Not every day. James says most people only get letters from home about once a month. I don’t want to...”

Harry interrupted, “We wrote James about three times a week last year.”

“What? James!” Albus looked accusingly at James.

“Yes,” Ginny agreed. “You may not want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts. He likes a laugh, your brother.”

James put on an innocent smile. “Can we go now, please?” 

Albus froze. He had been to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters before as he saw off James and his god brother Teddy (who had since graduated) to Hogwarts. But today was different. He looked up at his mother and father for guidance.

Ginny spoke with calm reassurance. “All you have to do is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten.”

Lily shook eagerly on her father’s shoulders. “I’m so excited.”

Harry sat her down and advised Albus, “Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best to do it at a run if you’re nervous.”

Albus turned to the barrier and braced himself for everything that was about to come. “I’m ready.”

Harry and Lily put their hands on Albus’s trolley as Ginny joined James. Together, the family ran hard at the barrier.


	2. All Was Well

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 2: All Was Well

Thick steam slapped Albus’s face as he emerged onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. A mighty scarlet steam engine awaited patiently on the tracks with the words “Hogwarts Express” inscribed in gold letters. The people here dressed considerably different than the sharply dressed Muggles in King’s Cross. Witches and Wizards in flamboyant robes bid farewell to their children in as many different ways as one could imagine. Children gossipped and laughed and cried almost as boisterously as their parents. Owls hooted from rattling cages. Friends and family reunited. Off in the distance, Harry’s godson Teddy Lupin waved at the Potters. After the boys left their trolleys to be loaded onto the train, James ran off to meet Teddy.

“This is it,” said Albus to himself. “Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Lily as a couple students flew by overhead on broomsticks. She began looking around determinedly. “Where are they? Are they here? Maybe they didn’t come?” Albus knew who she was excited to see and also searched.

Harry pointed down the station to indicate his best friend and brother-in-law Ron Weasley who carried his son Hugo Granger-Weasley on his back. Ron towered above most of the crowd and his red hair stood out, even in the steam-filled station. As the crowd parted, his wife, Hermione Granger-Weasley came into view. She had bushy, brown hair and a countenance as stern but kindly as one would expect from the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just as well, Ron’s appearance was as puckish as one would expect from a co-manager of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, a joke shop owned by his brother George.

Albus was particularly happy to see his cousin Rose Granger-Weasley who would also be attending her first year at Hogwarts. The two had always been friendly, and Albus was comforted to be starting his first year with at least one friend.

“Uncle Ron!” called Lily as she ran through the crowd to join him. “Uncle Ron!!!”

Ron turned toward them and sat down Hugo as Lily jumped into his arms and he hoisted her high. Albus noticed several people in the crowd beginning to stare and whisper as Harry Potter and his family met with the Granger-Weasleys.

“If it isn’t my favourite Potter,” said Ron, greeting Lily with a kiss.

“Have you got my trick?” Lily asked.

Ron sat her down, straightened her jacket, and entered full-on goofball mode. “Are you aware of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes-certified nose-stealing breath?”

Rose groaned, “Mum! Dad’s doing that lame thing again.”

Hermione watched his performance with mild amusement. “You say lame, he says glorious, I say—somewhere in between.”

Hugo snickered as Ron grabbed a handful of air. “Hang on. Let me just munch this... air.” Ron gulped the air. “And now it’s just a simple matter of... Excuse me if I smell slightly of garlic...” He breathed on Lily’s face. She and Hugo giggled.

“You smell of porridge,” she giggled as he began waving his hands whimsically.

“Bing. Bang. Boing. Young lady, get ready to not being able to smell at all...”

Ron pinched her nose with his knuckles and yanked it, pulling his fist away with his thumb between his fingers.

“Where’s my nose?”

Ron opened his palm to reveal... nothing. “Ta-da!” 

Lily grasped her nose and giggled. “You are silly.”

Albus heard scattered chuckles and noticed that more and more people had turned their attention towards them.

“Everyone’s staring at us again,” he told Harry.

“Because of me!” insisted Ron. “I’m extremely famous. My nose experiments are legendary!”

“They’re certainly something,” said Hermione.

“Parked all right, then?” Harry asked.

“I did,” replied Ron. “Hermione didn’t believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I’d have to Confund the examiner.”

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. “I thought nothing of the kind, I have complete faith in you.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “And _I_ have complete faith he did Confund the examiner.”

“Oi!” Ron chided.

As the group laughed, the attention of the onlookers consumed Albus and his nerves resurfaced. The laughter became muted. He barely noticed James returning with something or other to say about Teddy. His mind flooded with doubts. He knew that all of these people expected him to be as brave and noble as his dad. But what if he wasn’t like his dad? What if he didn’t _want_ to be like his dad? What if he wasn’t brave or noble? What if James was right? What if...

“Dad...” said Albus as he tugged on Harry’s robes. Harry looked down as Albus asked, “Do you think—what if I am—what if I’m put in Slytherin...”

“And what would be wrong with that?” Harry asked.

“Slytherin is the House of the snake, of Dark Magic...” replied Albus, his nerves rumbling. “It’s not a House of brave wizards.” 

“Albus Severus,” said Harry calmly, “you were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.”

“But just say...”

“If it matters to you, _you_ ,” interrupted Harry, “the Sorting Hat will take your feelings into account.”

Albus felt a slight sense of relief. “Really?”

“It did for me,” said Harry in a hushed tone. Albus got the impression that he was privy to information that wasn’t well known, and immediately understood the implication. Maybe the Sorting Hat thought Harry would have made a good fit for Slytherin, but he chose Gryffindor instead. Would he have chosen differently if he was in Albus’s place today?

“Hogwarts will be the making of you, Albus,” said Harry confidently. “I promise you, there is nothing to be frightened of there.”

“Apart from the Thestrals,” warned James, boarding the train. “Watch out for the Thestrals.”

“I thought they were invisible!” shuddered Albus.

“Listen to your professors,” instructed Harry, “ _don’t_ listen to James, and remember to enjoy yourself. Now, if you don’t want this train to leave without you, you should leap on...”

“I’m going to chase the train out,” said Lily. 

“Lily, come straight back,” instructed Ginny.

“Rose,” said Hermione as Rose began boarding the train. “Remember to send Neville our love.”

Rose scoffed. “Mum, I can’t give a professor love!”

Albus hugged Ginny and Harry tightly and then steeled himself. “Okay, then. Bye.” He climbed onto the Hogwarts Express just as it let out a loud whistle and started to move. Lily chased after the train with Hugo following behind her.

Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Harry watched as the train set off from the station. 

Ginny embraced Harry’s arm. “They’re going to be okay, right?” she asked.

“Hogwarts is a big place,” said Hermione.

“Big. Wonderful. Full of food,” said Ron. “I’d give anything to be going back.”

“Strange, Al being worried he’ll be sorted into Slytherin,” mused Harry.

“That’s nothing,” Hermione laughed, “Rose is worried whether she’ll break the Quidditch scoring record in her first or second year. And how early she can take her O.W.L.s.”

“I have no idea where she gets her ambition from,” remarked Ron.

“And how would you feel Harry, if Al—if he is?” Ginny asked.

Before Harry could answer, Ron interrupted. “You know, Gin, we always thought there was a chance you could be sorted into Slytherin.”

“What?” remarked Ginny as Lily and Hugo returned to their parents.

“Honestly,” teased Ron, hoisting Hugo back onto his shoulders, “Fred and George ran a book.”

“Can we go?” asked Hermione. “People are looking, you know.”

“People always look when you three are together,” stated Ginny as the two families began to head back to the barrier. “And apart. People always look at you.”

As Ron, Hermione, Hugo and Lily depart through the barrier, Ginny stopped Harry. “Harry... He’ll be alright, won’t he?

“Of course he will,” Harry assured her.


	3. Scorpius Malfoy

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 3: Scorpius Malfoy

Albus and Rose walked along the carriage of the train, fruitlessly peering into compartments that were already full. Suddenly, Albus’s attention was caught by a trolley loaded with sweets, the first sweets he had seen in months since his mum decided to bar the family from eating sugar.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” offered an old lady pushing the cart who Albus barely noticed at first. “Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?”

Before Albus could grab anything, Rose snapped him out of his stupor. “Al. We need to concentrate.”

“Concentrate on what?” asked Albus impatiently. 

“On who we choose to be friends with,” answered Rose as though the situation demanded the utmost sensitivity. “My mum and dad met your dad on their first Hogwarts Express, you know...”

“So we need to choose now who to be friends with for life?” hesitated Albus, suddenly noticing how many people were on board the train. “That’s quite scary.”

“On the contrary, it’s exciting,” said Rose with a trill in her voice. “I’m a Granger-Weasley, you’re a Potter—everyone will want to be friends with us, we’ve got the pick of anyone we want.”

Albus admired Rose’s confidence, but he did not share her sense of abundance when it came to potential friends. Instead, he worried if any of these people would want to be friends with him even if he wasn’t a Potter. He briefly considered going by an alias.

He asked, “So how do we decide—which compartment to go in...”

“We rate them all and then make a decision,” said Rose decisively. 

Albus found a compartment that was vacant except for a lonely blond boy gazing out of the window at the passing fields. As Albus opened the door, the mousy boy turned excitedly to see his visitors. The boy exhumed a pure, sincere enthusiasm that appealed to Albus. He smiled, and the boy smiled in turn.

“Hi,” greeted Albus. “Is this compartment...”

“It’s free,” squeaked the boy eagerly. “It’s just me.”

“Great,” said Albus, becoming nervous. “So we might just—come in—for a bit—if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” answered the boy with delight. “Hi.”

Rose looked unconvinced by the lone passenger but Albus entered the compartment anyway. He greeted, “Albus. Al. I’m—my name is Albus...”

“Hi Scorpius,” said the boy, slightly rattled. He shook his head as he noticed his mistake. “I mean, I’m Scorpius. You’re Albus. I’m Scorpius. And you must be...”

Albus turned to see Rose’s cold expression. “Rose,” she said plainly.

“Hi, Rose,” greeted Scorpius as he emptied a bag full of a variety of sweets into his seat. “Would you like some of my Fizzing Whizbees?”

“I’ve just had breakfast, thanks,” she declined, though it was clear her intention was to deny Scorpius kindness rather than a reluctance to accept sweets, but Scorpius persisted, either oblivious or unperturbed.

“I’ve also got some Shock-o-Choc, Pepper Imps, and some Jelly Slugs. Mum’s idea—she says—” then, to Albus’s amused surprise, Scorpius sang, “‘ _Sweets_ _, they always help you make friends._ ’” Thick silence filled the compartment as Rose rolled her eyes, Albus contained his laughter, and Scorpius's cheeks grew bright red and cringed. “Stupid idea, probably,” he groaned.

“I’ll have some...” agreed Albus, “Mum doesn’t let me have sweets. Which one would you start with?”

Scorpius’s face beamed as Albus felt Rose lightly nudge him in the back.

“Easy,” said Scorpius. “I’ve always regarded the Pepper Imps as the king of the confectionery bag. They’re peppermint sweets that make you smoke at the ears.”

“Brilliant,” said Albus, reaching out his hand, “then that’s what I’ll—” Albus felt another nudge from Rose, this time harder. “Rose, will you please stop hitting me?”

“I’m not hitting you,” Rose insisted.

“You are hitting me, and it hurts.”

“She’s hitting you because of me,” said Scorpius, crestfallen.

Albus looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Listen,” he replied. “I know who you are, so it’s probably only fair you know who I am.”

Albus cursed himself for not going with an alias. Trying to maintain some discretion he asked, “What do you mean you know who I am?”

“You’re Albus Potter,” explained Scorpius, though his enthusiasm waivered. “She’s Rose Granger-Weasley. And I’m Scorpius Malfoy. My parents are Astoria and Draco Malfoy. Our parents—they didn’t get on.”

Albus knew of Draco Malfoy by reputation only—his parents rarely mentioned him—but the Malfoy name was notorious. His heart sank. Not only had he failed to find a friend, but he found the son of one of Lord Voldemort’s followers.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rose spat. “Your parents are Death Eaters!”

Scorpius looked as though he had been punched square in the face. He replied, affronted, “Dad _was_ —but Mum wasn’t!” Rose turned her head and scoffed. Desperately, Scorpius explained, “I’ve heard the rumours, you know, and they’re not true.”

“What—what rumours?” asked Albus.

“All sorts of rubbish,” said Scorpius dismissively. “I’ve heard everything, from being raised by Dementors to locking Muggleborns in my cellar. Then word got out that my mum had difficulty conceiving—that in itself spawned a whole host of rumours. Some people think I was conceived using dark magic, or that my real mum’s a hag, or even that my mum got knocked-up by Voldemort.”

“But you were born years after Voldemort’s death,” observed Albus. “How would that even be possible?”

“Test tubes or Time-Turners or blood magic or something,” sneered Scorpius. “People come up with anything if it sounds juicy enough. And anytime a Death Eater gets raided, a new, more ridiculous rumour pops up.”

Rose looked convinced that Scorpius wasn’t a threat, but nonetheless displeased by his general demeanour. “Plus, you couldn’t be Voldemort’s son,” said Rose lightly, “you have a nose!”

The tension in the compartment let up slightly. Scorpius laughed, pathetically grateful.

“And it’s just like my father’s!” said Scorpius, regaining his energy. “I got his nose, his hair, and his name. Not that that’s a great thing either. I mean—father-son issues, I have them. But, on the whole, I’m happy to be a Malfoy, despite what anyone expects a Malfoy to be.”

Albus and Scorpius looked at one another and something unspoken passed between them. Albus felt an implicit trust in Scorpius, as though he could share feelings he’d kept private and someone would finally understand.

“Yes, well, we probably should sit somewhere else,” said Rose, eager to resume her journey of making friends who weren’t social pariahs. “Come on, Albus.”

Albus paused. Should he go with Rose and play it safe? Should he stick with his cousin, the Granger-Weasley, and never know what Hogwarts might have been like if he hadn’t followed in the footsteps of his father? Or should he defy all expectations and befriend a Malfoy? Should he reach out a hand to a lonely kid who understands how it feels to live in the shadow of their father?

“No,” Albus decided, his heart pounding with doubt. Rose glowered at him in surprise and disbelief. “I’m okay. You go on...”

“Albus, I won’t wait,” Rose said firmly.

“And I won’t expect you to,” replied Albus. ”But I’m staying here.”

Rose stared at him, confused. “Fine!” she snapped, and then stormed out of the compartment.

With Potter and Malfoy left alone in the compartment, a brief silence of uncertainty overcame them. Albus hoped that he made the right decision in staying.

“Thank you,” said Scorpius suddenly.

“No. No,” said Albus shyly. “I didn’t stay—for you—I stayed for your sweets.” Albus took a seat opposite Scorpius and greedily grabbed a handful of Jelly Slugs. 

“She’s quite fierce,” admired Scorpius.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Albus tried to reply with a mouthful of slugs.

“No. I like it. Do you prefer Albus or Al?” Scorpius grinned and popped two Pepper Imps into his mouth.

It took Albus a moment to decide. He was named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was Albus Dumbledore: the wisest, most powerful wizard in modern history. Dumbledore’s sacrifices to defeat Lord Voldemort were numerous and great, more so even than Harry Potter’s. The expectations of being a Potter was difficult enough to bear, but he was the namesake of _three_ great wizards. But perhaps he could be happy to be Albus Severus Potter, despite what anyone expected Albus Severus Potter to be.

“Albus,” he answered finally.

Scorpius’s ears started to make a whistling noise as smoke shot out from them. The whistling grew louder as Scorpius shouted, “THANK YOU FOR STAYING FOR MY SWEETS, ALBUS.”

“Wow,” laughed Albus.

Together, the two rode into Hogsmeade Station, sharing sweets and stories of their upbringing. Their compartment remained undisturbed by any other visitors, and that was just as well. Albus doubted anyone else on the train would understand him in quite the same way as Scorpius Malfoy.


	4. Three Years Gone

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 4: Three Years Gone

Hogwarts Castle sat atop a tall cliff overlooking a lake. It was tradition that first years would arrive at Hogwarts Castle for the first time by riding across the lake in boats. As Albus glided across the black water with Scorpius, the castle looked, to him, as spectacular as it was intimidating. He had heard many stories and saw paintings of how magical and magnificent it was, but no one quite captured just how imposing it was to behold. When they entered the castle, the other students marvelled at the elaborate architecture, grand staircase, moving paintings, gossiping ghosts, and the ceiling in the Great Hall that perfectly reflected the sky outside, but the first thought that came to Albus’s mind was that the castle was a bit chilly.

As the first years waited outside the Great Hall before sorting, Albus noticed eyes start to fall upon him. Some tried to be discrete, but once the whispers started, discretion was forgone. At the speed of gossip, Albus found himself surrounded by the first years as they began to realise who he was.

“Albus Potter,” remarked Polly Chapman, a pretty girl who had a tendency to poke out her nose as though it was attuned to sniff out gossip.

“A Potter. In our year,” mused Karl Jenkins, a burly kid who seemed, for the first time, to admire someone besides himself.

“He’s got his hair. He’s got hair just like him,” insisted Yann Fredericks, a long-faced, thin-nosed lanky boy.

“And he’s my cousin,” said Rose, and to Albus’s relief, their attention turned to her. “Rose Granger-Weasley. Nice to meet you.”

The doors to the Great Hall flew open and together, the first years were led into a cathedral-like room with four long tables filled with students facing one long table filled with teachers. Lit candles floated overhead beneath the night sky facade on the ceiling. 

On a stool before the teacher’s table sat a pointed hat. It was frayed and torn, sewn and patched, marked with wear and burns, and had a long tear along the brim from which it sang:

_I’ve done this job for centuries  
__On every student's head I’ve sat  
__Of thoughts I take inventories  
__For_ _I’m the famous Sorting Hat_

 _I’ve sorted high, I’ve sorted low,  
__I’ve done this job_ _through thick and thin  
__So put me on and you will know  
__Which House you should be in..._

Craig Bowker Jr. was the first name to be called. A weedy boy approached the hat, placed it on his head and sat on the stool. The Slytherin table exploded with cheers as Craig was sorted among them.

While Albus waited for his turn to be sorted, he scoped out the room. James and their cousin Fred Weasley Jr. sat at the Gryffindor table. Gryffindors were known for being effortlessly brave and determined, though James was proof that daring can mean being reckless. Naturally, their crimson and gold banners depicted a lion. This was also the House of Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Surely, there was no House better suited for Albus Potter.

“Rose Granger-Weasley,” called the Sorting Hat. Rose approached, put the hat on her head, and before she could fully sit on the stool, the hat cried, “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Thank Dumbledore,” said Rose as she went to join Polly Chapman at the applauding Gryffindor table. 

Albus saw his cousins Victoire Weasley and Molly Weasley at the Ravenclaw table. Like other Ravenclaws, Victoire and Molly were both studious and motivated to learn. The eagle of the blue and bronze banner represented this clever House. Though Albus intended to get a full and rounded education, he doubted he would have the talent to excel as a Ravenclaw.

At the Hufflepuff table, he saw Victoire’s younger siblings Dominique and Louis. Uncle Ron considered the Hufflepuff House as something of a joke, though Hermione insisted their unyielding loyalty and diligence were to their credit. Harry had told Albus once that there were more Hufflepuffs present at the Battle of Hogwarts than any other House. Perhaps he could see himself wearing the yellow and black and the badger-emblazoned badge of the Hufflepuffs.

However, at the Slytherin table, there were no Weasleys and certainly no Potters. Ambitious. Cunning. Garbed in green and grey. House of the snake. House of Draco Malfoy. House of the Death Eaters. House of Lord Voldemort. And now, House of... 

“Scorpius Malfoy,” called the Sorting Hat, and Scorpius donned the hat. “SLYTHERIN!” The Slytherins cheered as he took a seat at the table (though scattered jeers could be heard throughout the room).

“Well, that makes sense,” Polly sneered to Rose.

Could Slytherins be as bad as they say if a boy like Scorpius was one of them? Isn’t ambition just the diligence to succeed? Isn’t cunning just cleverness with purpose? And Severus Snape was indeed very brave to deceive the Dark Lord for years as his trusted servant, only to secretly aid Albus Dumbledore’s plot to defeat him.

“Albus Potter,” called the Sorting Hat. 

Albus walked to the stool, his mind racing. He sat and put the hat on his head. A pause. He could feel the Sorting Hat struggle to parse his thoughts. It grumbled. It hummed. It hawed. It could sense Albus’s doubt.

Albus cleared his mind and allowed the hat to sort him wherever it decided. That was his choice: to go where he belonged, wherever that may be.

“SLYTHERIN!”

There was a silence. A perfect, profound silence. One that sat low, twisted a bit, and had damage within it.

Albus stood and scattered applause came from the Slytherin table, but it was otherwise in a stunned surprise.

“Slytherin?” said Polly as he passed the Gryffindor table. 

He approached the Slytherin table with a feeling of unease.

“Whoa! A Potter? In Slytherin,” remarked Craig.

Scorpius smiled, delighted. “You can sit next to me!” 

Albus took a seat beside Scorpius, which happened to have the advantage of facing away from the rest of the school.

“I suppose his hair isn’t that similar,” said Yann from the Ravenclaw table behind him.

Throughout the rest of the sorting, throughout Headmistress McGonagall’s welcoming speech, and throughout the feast (where he barely ate), Albus was trapped in his own space. He was deaf to the mindless chatter and prefects listing rules and even Scorpius’s ramblings about all the not-evil people, like Merlin, that came from Slytherin. His mind was still, with the Sorting Hat’s “SLYTHERIN!” echoing in a void. He couldn’t begin to process what a Potter in Slytherin house even was or could be.

“Albus?” Rose caught him before the Slytherin prefect led the first years down to their dormitory in the dungeons. “But this is wrong, Albus. This is not how it’s suppose to be.”

Albus ignored her, unable to find a response. 

And thus began a turbulent first year at Hogwarts. Albus held on as tightly as he could to his father’s words: “Hogwarts will be the making of you.” So what if he wasn’t in Gryffindor like his dad? Harry Potter had his time at Hogwarts. Albus’s time at Hogwarts belonged to _him._

That night, he wrote home. If his parents were upset that he was placed in Slytherin, they hid it well in their response. Ginny told him to tell her more about his new friend. Harry told him to tell him about his first flying lesson.

Madam Hooch taught the first years’ flying class. A stern witch with spiked greyed hair, Madam Hooch entered the courtyard with no patience for dawdling and did not suffer mundane pleasantries.

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick,” instructed Madam Hooch. “Come on, hurry up.”

The first years all scurried to stand beside a broomstick. Harry had tried to teach Albus to fly a number of times. Harry was a legendary seeker and captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. After Hogwarts, Ginny continued to play Quidditch professionally for the Holyhead Harpies, until she became sports editor of the Daily Prophet. 

“Stick out your hands over your broom, and say, ‘Up!’” she instructed.

A collective roar of “Up!” burst from the class. Rose and Yann’s booms obediently flew straight into their hands. 

“Yes!” they celebrated.

Meanwhile, Albus’s broom didn’t so much as twitch.

Albus enjoyed his father’s flying lessons, insomuch as he enjoyed the time he spent with his father. The part where he was lifted several feet off the ground weren’t so appealing to him, but as long as he had his dad to hold onto, he enjoyed the ride.

“Come on, now, I’ve no time for shirkers,” said Madam Hooch. “Say ‘UP.’ ‘UP’ like you mean it.”

“UP!” called the rest of the class. Soon Scorpius, Karl, Polly, Craig and the rest of the first years had their brooms in their hands, each declaring, “Yes!” upon their success.

Only Albus remained. “Up. UP. UP,” he desperately shouted at the broom, but it ignored him.

“Oh Merlin’s beard, how humiliating!” laughed Polly. “He really isn’t like his father at all, is he?”

“Albus Potter, the Slytherin Squib,” teased Karl.

Madam Hooch shot Karl a cross glance as she walked over and handed Albus his uncooperative broom. “Okay. Children. Time to fly.”

Ginny’s next letter told Albus not to take their words to heart and to appreciate the friends he’d made. Harry assured him that the more he kept practising his flying, the more he'd improve. Albus became frustrated. He didn’t want to improve his flying. He didn’t want to be good at flying. He didn’t want to care that he wasn’t good at flying. 

***

“I’m just asking you, Dad, if you’ll—if you’ll just stand a little away from me.” 

Albus’s second year at Hogwarts was upon him. He was sure that with his first year behind him, he could have a nice, quiet year where no one expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps. That was, if he could manage to escape his shadow.

Albus and Scorpius conspired to arrive at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters early to avoid the crowd. This did not stop the unwanted gazes, however. An eager-looking wizard followed Harry since entering the station.

“Second-years don’t like to be seen with their dads, is that it?” Harry joked.

“No. It’s just—you’re you and— and I’m me and—”

The wizard following them finally gathered the courage to approach, and handed a paper to Harry, which he signed.

“It’s just people looking, okay?” said Harry. “People look. And they’re looking at me, not you.”

“At Harry Potter and his disappointing child,” bemoaned Albus.

“What does that mean?” Harry tried to put his hand on Albus’s shoulder but Albus brushed it off.

“At Harry Potter and his Slytherin son.”

James rushed past, purposely knocking his bag into Albus and chanting, “Slythering Slytherin, stop with your dithering, time to get onto the train.”

“Unnecessary, James,” scolded Harry, but James had long gone.

“See you at Christmas, Dad,” James called out as he boarded the train.

Harry tried his best to make eye contact with Albus. “Al—”

“My name is Albus, not Al,” corrected Albus curtly.

“Are the other kids being unkind? Is that it? Maybe if you tried making a few more friends... without Hermione and Ron I wouldn’t have survived Hogwarts, I wouldn't have survived at all.”

“I don’t need a Ron and Hermione. I’ve—I’ve got a friend, Scorpius, and I know you don’t like him but he’s all I need.”

“Look, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

Albus knew he was treating his dad unreasonably. Irrationally, he wanted Harry to admit he was ashamed to have a Slytherin son who didn’t share his talents or love of Hogwarts. He wanted his self-doubt validated by the man who set the bar too high. 

“You didn’t need to bring me to the station, Dad.” Albus grabbed his case and scurried through the starring crowd to board the train.

“But I wanted to be here...” said Harry, but Albus had gone.

A lean, smartly dressed man with platinum blond hair tied neatly in a ponytail emerged from the crowd and stood by Harry’s side. Harry tensed up. He had barely spoken to Draco Malfoy since they parted ways after the Battle of Hogwarts. Though Malfoy had repented his crimes, the memories the two shared were never pleasant. Now, their sons were inseparable.

“I need a favour,” said Malfoy shortly.

“Draco,” said Harry, as welcomingly as he could muster for an old adversary.

Foregoing formalities, Malfoy jumped straight to the point. “There are whispers circulating around the corners of Knockturn Alley that Death Eaters have gotten their hands on Time-Turners. These sorts of lies don’t reflect well about certain stories that are harming my family... If the Ministry could release a statement reaffirming that the Time-Turners have all been destroyed in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries...”

Rumours about Death Eaters caught Harry’s ear, but he could tell Malfoy’s motives were not aligned with his own. “Draco, what is this about?” 

Malfoy gathered himself. “The other Hogwarts students tease Scorpius relentlessly. The last thing he needs is another rumour feeding the gossip. I need this nonsense nipped in the bud before it gets back to him.”

Harry was taken aback; this was not what he expected to hear. “Answering the gossip is feeding the gossip.” 

“My son is suffering—” revealed Malfoy, losing his patience, “and Astoria hasn’t been well recently—so he needs all the support he can get.”

Harry had never seen Malfoy this vulnerable. It reminded him of another Malfoy—namely, Draco’s mother. What’s more, he personally understood Draco’s desire to protect his son from ridicule. 

“I feel for your son, Draco—truly,” sympathized Harry. “But there isn’t an easy way to stamp out gossip, and drawing attention to it isn’t the solution. The Ministry, for your sake as well as ours, needs to steer well clear. I would, however, like to learn more about these Time-Turner rumours...”

Together, Draco and Harry left the station to find a more private place to talk as Albus and Rose met on the Hogwarts Express.

“As soon as the train leaves you don’t have to talk to me,” stated Albus. Rose had, after all, kept her distance for the greater part of their first year. The hardest part of summer holiday was spent pretending that Rose had not abandoned him as soon as it became socially inconvenient to hang out with Albus Potter. 

“I know,” she agreed. “We just need to keep the pretense up in front of the grown-ups.”

Scorpius came running at them down the train, ever-optimistic and carrying an overstuffed case.

“Hi, Rose!” he greeted hopefully.

Rose took one sour look at him and grabbed her case. “Bye, Albus,” she said coolly, and walked away.

“I think she’s warming up to me,” insisted Scorpius. “Maybe we’ll all be friends soon.”

“I don’t need her anymore,” said Albus. “She made her decision.”

By all indications, she was better off without him. Whereas Albus withered in the spotlight, Rose continued to blossom.

A week later, Albus and Scorpius happened upon the Gryffindor Quidditch team celebrating their new roster in the Great Hall. Headmistress McGonagall, a wizened and stern elderly witch who had been a Gryffindor, led the revelry in a rare moment of spontaneity. 

McGonagall proclaimed excitedly, “And I’m pleased to announce Gryffindor’s newest member of the Quidditch team—our—” she caught herself, “ _your_ superb new Chaser—Rose Granger-Weasley.”

The Gryffindors applauded and so did (to Albus’s surprise) Scorpius.

“Are you clapping her too?” asked Albus indignantly. “We hate Quidditch and she’s playing for another House.” 

“She’s your cousin, Albus,” he replied.

“Do you think she’d clap for me?”

“I think she’s brilliant.”

Albus capitulated to his insecurities, and his classwork suffered for it. In Charms, he successfully inflated his candle, which would have been impressive if the task wasn’t to light the candle. In Transfiguration, his sow’s ear remained leathery and inadequate for holding money. In Herbology, the mandrake he was tasked to nurture became surly and neglected. In Potions, he became easily overwhelmed and unable to concentrate.

“Albus Potter. An irrelevance,” whispered Polly one morning in Potions class. She was just loud enough that Albus could hear her, and he was certain that was her intention. “Even the portraits turn the other way when he comes up the stairs.”

Albus tried to focus on his potion. “And now we add—is it horn of Bicorn?”

Karl whispered back to Polly, “Leave him and the wee Death Eater to it, I say.”

“With just a little salamander blood...” Albus poured a phial into the cauldron and a burst of smoke exploded loudly from it. 

Scorpius kept his cool and flipped through his textbook. “Okay. What’s the counter-ingredient?” he pondered. “What do we need to change?”

“Everything,” sighed Albus, deflated as the other students roared with laughter.

***

Harry stood with Albus at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. 

“Third year. Big year,” said Harry, trying to convince Albus (and himself) that everything was okay. 

Albus had grown reluctantly handsome and decidedly sullen as he entered his teen years. To Albus’s annoyance, Harry took it upon himself to tidy Albus’s hair, straighten his robes, and stick a folded piece of parchment in his case.

“Here’s your permission form to Hogsmeade,” said Harry, as though the moment was of the utmost significance to him.

“I hate Hogsmeade,” Albus complained as he removed the parchment and tried to hand it back.

“How can you hate a place you haven’t actually visited?” countered Harry. And he was right, trips to Hogsmeade Village were exclusive to years three and above, and by all accounts the shops were great fun to visit. To Albus, on the other hand, there was a blaring detractor.

“Because I know it’s full of Hogwarts students,” explained Albus as he crumpled the permission slip when Harry refused to take it.

Harry implored, “Just give it a go—come on—this is your chance to go nuts in Honeydukes without your mum knowing—no, Albus, don’t you dare.”

Albus raised his wand and pointed it at the parchment. “ _Incendio_.” 

Flames ignited from the parchment, and the crumpled ball rose into the air as it disintegrated into ash. 

Harry stared at Albus, mouth agape. “Of all the stupid things!”

Albus shrugged. “The ironic thing is I didn’t expect it to work. I’m terrible at that spell.”

Harry put his fingers to his temples, trying to figure out what to say without exploding. “Al—Albus, I’ve been exchanging owls with Professor McGonagall—she says you’re isolating yourself—you’re uncooperative in lessons—you’re surly—you’re—”

Albus became somewhat angry, but mostly humiliated. “So what would you like me to do?” he exploded. “Magic myself popular? Conjure myself into a new House? Transfigure myself into a better student? Just cast a spell, Dad, and change me into what you want me to be, okay? It’ll work better for both of us.” Albus looked at his dad to see him stricken with hurt. Albus wanted to hurt him, after all. It was his dad’s fault that everyone treated him like a black sheep. So why didn’t it make him happy to see that he got what he wanted? Before he ran the risk of apologising to his dad, he turned stoic and said, “Got to go. Train to catch. Friend to find.”

Albus ran along the platform to find Scorpius. He found his friend sitting motionless on his suitcase, staring blankly at the ground.

“Scorpius...” greeted Albus, concerned.

No response. Albus approached with concern, and found Scorpius's cheeks blotchy and eyes heavy.

“Scorpius... are you okay?”

No response. Scorpius’s eyes welled up as tears fought their way outward. Albus’s heart panged with pity as he worked out what had his ever-cheerful friend suddenly heartbroken. Half-whispering, he asked, “Your mum? It’s got worse?”

“It’s got as worse as it can get,” Scorpius replied through broken breaths.

Everything burdening Albus’s mind suddenly felt inconsequential. As much as he resented his dad, Albus couldn’t imagine losing him. He considered (for a fleeting moment) running to his dad and embracing him. Instead, he sat next to Scorpius.

“I thought you’d send an owl...” said Albus.

“I couldn’t work out what to say...” explained Scorpius.

“And now I don’t know what to say...”

“Say nothing,” said Scorpius, choking back a sob.

Albus put his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder. “Is there anything... ?”

“Come to the funeral.”

“Of course.”

“And be my good friend.”

Albus and Scorpius journeyed in near silence in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. When Scorpius wanted to talk, Albus would lend his ear. When Scorpius wanted comfort, Albus would lend his hand. When Scorpius wanted to cry, Albus would lend his shoulder.

As they arrived at Hogsmeade station and prepared to board the thestral-drawn carriages to the school, Scorpius was determined not to make a spectacle of his grief. He put on his bravest face and he and Albus joined a carriage with two second year Slytherins. Once arriving at the Great Hall, they quickly took seats at the farthest end of the table before the sorting ceremony began. A new crop of first years entered the hall, this year including Lily Potter. Once they approached the Sorting Hat, it sang,

_Are_ _you afraid of what you’ll hear?  
__Afraid I’ll speak the name you fear?  
__Not_ _Slytherin_ _! Not_ _Gryffindor_ _!_  
_Not Hufflepuff! Not Ravenclaw!_  
_Don’t worry, child, I know my job,  
__You_ _’ll learn to laugh, if first you sob._

Albus kept a quiet, distant hope that Lily might be sorted into Slytherin. Having another Potter in Slytherin might take some attention away from him, and having his sister in the same house would give them more time to spend together.

“Lily Potter,” called the Sorting Hat. Lily took her place on the stool. “GRYFFINDOR!”

“Yes!” cheered Lily.

“Great,” sulked Albus, drained of hope.

“Did you really think she’d come to us?” asked Scorpius. “Potters don’t belong in Slytherin.”

Albus looked him in the eye and said firmly, “This one does.” 

For his third year at Hogwarts, things went about as smoothly for Albus as the first two. The only class he fared well enough in was Muggle Studies, which surprised exactly no one. He failed at flying, his potioning was pathetic, and his spellcasting was substandard.

There was never a lack of ridicule for the inadequate Albus Potter. He did his best not to give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him hurt, but even Albus had his limits. Finally, the humiliation became so difficult to bear that he broke down in tears in Charms class after he accidentally performed a Sticking Charm on his own wand, leaving it stuck to the floor. As he struggled to loose his wand, the laughter of the other students surrounded him.

“I didn’t choose, you know that?” Albus shouted as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I didn’t choose to be his son.”

Professor Flitwick rushed to aid Albus, but even with his wand back in his possession, he was no better wizard for it. There seemed to be no recourse for Albus to prove his worth so long as he had to bear the Potter legacy.


	5. The Time-Turner

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 5: The Time-Turner

Hermione Granger-Weasley sat patiently in Harry Potter’s messy office. A pile of papers were strewn across his desk, and she sorted through it all to pass the time. Underneath a pile of reports from the Department of International Cooperation, she became distracted by an old _Daily Prophet_ article about Harry’s decision to lift the Trace, which caused a highly publicised argument at the time between him and Hermione back when she was Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement _._ Though she had since enjoyed a prestigious promotion from the department, she returned to await news on a raid of particular interest.

Harry rushed into the office, his robes torn, his hair dishevelled, and bleeding from a graze on his cheek.

“How did it go?” Hermione greeted him. She stood, eager to learn about his adventure.

“Theodore Nott is in custody,” explained Harry, with a sigh of relief. “It took us two years to find him, but we got him.”

“And Draco’s intel?”

“The rumours were true.”

Harry produced a golden trinket from his pocket. Hermione studied it in awe. The trinket had a small hourglass in a round, crudely assembled frame. It indeed resembled a Time-Turner, but it was unlike the one she had previously used herself.

“Is it genuine?” enquired Hermione as she took it into her hand and traced it with her fingers. “Does it work? It’s not just an hour-reversal turner—it goes back further?” She studied it closely and immediately noticed that there looked to be no obvious mechanism for activating it. A part of her tingled at the opportunity to uncover its mysteries.

“It looks to be assembled from scraps, possibly scavenged from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries,” explained Harry. “Whether it works remains to be seen, but I know that Nott wasn’t working alone; there are more powerful dark wizards being hidden by a Fidelius Charm. Nott was just the secret keeper.”

“A Fidelius Charm?” said Hermione, surprised. “Isn’t that how your parents protected your home from Voldemort? I didn’t think Death Eaters were capable of that kind of magic.”

“It seems they are,” said Harry as he slumped into his chair. “So we’re keeping Nott in custody until he reveals their location, otherwise we won’t be able to find the remaining Death Eaters.”

“Well, a least we have the Time-Turner.”

“And you’re sure you want to keep it?”

“I don’t think we have a choice. Look at it,” she said and then held it out. “It’s entirely different than the Time-Turner I had. I can’t begin to imagine what effects their tampering might have.”

“Apparently wizardry has moved on since we were kids,” he said dryly.

Hermione tucked the Time-Turner away and sat on the corner of his desk.

“You’re bleeding,” she remarked. It was not uncommon for Harry to return from a raid scratched and bruised, but Hermione always worried how Ginny must feel to find him in such a state. Harry checked his face in the mirror and dabbed at the scrape with his robes. “Don’t worry, it will go with the scar,” joked Hermione.

Harry chuckled softly. “What are you doing in my office, Hermione?”

“I was anxious to hear about Theodore Nott and—thought I’d check whether you’d kept your promise and were on top of your paperwork.”

“Ah,” said Harry as he looked at his disorganised office as though he had only just seen it. “Turns out I’m not.”

Hermione lifted up an inkwell that had overturned and spilt its content onto a pile of neglected memos. “No. You’re not,” she reprimanded. “Harry, how can you get any work done in this chaos?”

Harry waved his wand and the clutter on his desk rose into the air, danced around a bit, and landed in neat piles. “No longer chaotic,” he said, satisfied.

“But still ignored.” Hermione began flipping through documents. “You know, there’s some interesting stuff in here... There are mountain trolls riding Graphorns through Hungary, there are giants with winged tattoos on their backs walking through the Greek Seas, and the werewolves have gone entirely underground—”

“Great, let’s get out there,” said Harry, ever eager to avoid admin. “I’ll get the team together.”

“Harry, I get it. Paperwork’s boring...”

“Not for you.”

“I’m busy enough with my own,” said Hermione sternly. “These are people and beasts that fought alongside Voldemort in the great wizarding wars. These are allies of darkness. This—combined with what we have just unearthed at Theodore Nott’s—could mean something. But if the Head of Magical Law Enforcement isn’t reading his files—”

“But I don’t need to read it—I’m out there, hearing about it,” explained Harry with a mild frustration. “Theodore Nott—I didn’t hear the rumours about the Time-Turner in case files, but I still acted. You really don’t need to tell me off.”

Hermione looked at Harry, exasperated. She knew well that Harry preferred to chase after danger instead of doing his homework. Harry struggled to run the department on his own while she was temporarily reassigned, but she didn’t dare tell him that.

“Do you fancy a toffee?” she asked suddenly, handing out a sweet. “Don’t tell Ron.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I truly am. Toffee?”

“Can’t. We’re off sugar at the moment,” Harry bemoaned. “You know, you can get addicted to that stuff?” 

Hermione shrugged and ate the toffee. “What can I say? My parents were dentists, I was bound to rebel at some point. Forty is leaving it a little late, but...” She sighed as she realised she wasn’t any better at convincing Harry to do his work now as she was when they were in Hogwarts. “You’ve just done a brilliant thing. You’re certainly not being told off—I just need you to look at your paperwork every now and again, that’s all. Consider this a gentle—nudge—from the Minister for Magic.”

“ _Caretaker_ Minister for Magic,” corrected Harry, tongue-in-cheek.

“Caretaker Minister for Magic,” agreed Hermione. “I’m grateful Kingsley chose me to succeed him in an emergency, but quite selfishly, I hope he recovers quickly if only so I can come back here and do your paperwork. Anyway, how’s Ginny? How’s Albus?”

Harry sighed. “It seems I’m as good at fatherhood as I am at paperwork. How’s Rose? How’s Hugo?”

Hermione grinned. “You know Ron says he thinks I see more of my secretary, Fleur, than him. Do you think there’s a point where we make a choice—parent of the year or Ministry official of the year?” They both reflected on her words for a moment, then shared a look of remorse. “Go on. Go home to your family, Harry, the Hogwarts Express is about to depart for another year—enjoy the time you’ve got left—and then come back here with a fresh head and get these files read.”

Harry began gathering his paperwork and looked over them once more, this time in earnest. “You really think this could all mean something?”

“It could do. But if it does, we’ll find a way to fight it, Harry. We always have.”

Hermione smiled, popped another toffee in her mouth, and left the office. Harry looked up at a blank portrait above his desk and sighed as it remained unoccupied. He packed his bag and walked out of the office and down a corridor with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

He made his way through the vacant Ministry Atrium. The fireplaces had already been extinguished and the usual commotion had died. At the far end of the room, he stepped inside a red telephone box and dialed 62442 on the keypad.

“Farewell, Harry Potter,” said a monotone voice from the telephone, and the telephone box began to ascend out of the Ministry of Magic.


	6. The Boy Who Died

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 6: The Boy Who Died

Albus tossed in his bed. Tomorrow, he would be packing his bags for his fourth year at Hogwarts. The prospect of returning to school was something he had come to dread. Another year of classes he struggled in and students who teased him. He fantasised about escaping the train and skiving off for the year. It wouldn’t be hard, no one would notice him missing, after all. Well, except for Scorpius, that is. Scorpius would definitely know he was missing. He perished the thought of running away knowing it would mean abandoning Scorpius at Hogwarts.

The doorbell chimed. Albus climbed out of bed and sneaked out into the hallway as he heard a clamour downstairs. He heard his dad’s voice from the dining room talking to someone Albus didn’t recognise.

“I don’t want to sound unhappy to see you Amos,” said Harry, “but I must say your visit comes as a bit of a surprise.”

Albus took a seat at the top of the stairs, barely able to view an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair at the dining room table.

“I’m sorry for showing up at your house this late, Mr. Potter,” said Amos in a weary voice, “but every time I’ve tried to make an appointment, you’re busy. You must keep terribly busy these past few years, I understand.”

“Well, it’s good to see you anyway,” said Harry. He sat at the table and handed Amos a cup of tea. “How can I help?”

Amos’s hands shook as he took a sip of tea. His voice became grave and desperate. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not haunted by the death of my son, Potter. You do remember Cedric?”

Harry’s face fell, wounded. “Of course,” he replied.

Amos patted Harry’s arm tenderly. “After all the losses you’ve faced, I’m surprised there’s room left in your heart to grieve for poor Cedric Diggory.”

“I grieve more than you know. His death was so needless, and entirely my fault.”

“I don’t want you to carry the burden of his death upon your shoulders. I know full well who’s responsible for his death. That despicable fiend who called my boy a _spare_.” Amos turned his head and spat onto the floor, shaking with anger. He took another sip of tea, calming himself. 

Albus remembered what he knew about Cedric Diggory. His dad and Cedric competed in the Triwizard Tournament in Harry’s fourth year. They decided to complete the third task together, and claim the Triwizard Cup at the same time. They discovered the cup was a trap meant to lure Harry to Voldemort. Albus knew Voldemort killed Cedric when they both arrived in the graveyard of Little Hangleton, but he didn’t know he called Cedric a ‘spare.’

Amos continued, though more solemn. “I’ve grown old, Harry. Every passing day fills me with sorrow and remorse. I was not the most tender-hearted father, you see, I pushed him to be a good athlete, a good student... I don’t even remember the last time I told my son I loved him. So I’ve come here to ask the most grave favour of you, Harry Potter.”

“What is it, Amos?”

Amos leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice. “The Ministry has a Time-Turner, has it not?”

Harry was taken aback. “The Time-Turners were all destroyed during—”

“During the kerfuffle in the Department of Whatever, yes, I know. But... I’ve just heard a rumour—strong rumour—that the Ministry has seized an illegal Time-Turner from Theodore Nott.”

“I don’t know how you learnt about Nott’s arrest, but any talk of Time-Turners is entirely fabricated,” he responded with apprehension.

“You don’t need to conceal the truth from me,” Amos begged. “I’m not here to ask you to return my son, Potter! I only wish to see him one last time. I only wish to tell him I love him one last time.”

“You’ve come here to ask me to meddle with time?” said Harry, somewhat offended. “Even if that were possible, it would be extremely dangerous!”

Desperately, Amos took Harry’s hand into his own. “I can go in disguise, if need be. Remember what you told me You-Know-Who said before he killed my son? ‘Kill the spare.’ What a tragedy that he should die thinking he was a spare. I couldn’t even bury him with his wand; did you know that? They never found it. I pressured him in the Triwizard Tournament, You-Know-Who murdered him in cold blood, and he was robbed of a dignified wizard’s burial to boot. Please, Harry Potter, grant a dying man his last request.”

“I wish I could help you, Amos, more than anything. But I simply _can’t_ ,” Harry insisted as he got to his feet. “The rumours about Theodore Nott having a Time-Turner were fiction. I’m sorry.”

“Hello.”

Albus jumped a mile as a woman’s voice from below the staircase greeted him. He looked through the banister and saw a twenty-something, determined-looking girl looking up at him. She had silvery, blue-tipped hair, a sharp nose, and did not look as frightening as Albus’s reaction might suggest, rather, she was quite attractive.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle,” she said apologetically. “I used to be a big stair-listener myself. Sitting there. Waiting for someone to say something the tiniest bit interesting.”

“Who are you?” Albus whispered, nervous about the intruder and more nervous his father might catch him out of bed. “Because this is sort of my house and...”

The girl lowered her voice, held out a pretend knife and looked at him with a fierce facade. “I’m a thief, of course. I’m about to steal everything you own. Give me your gold, your wand, and your Chocolate Frogs!” She then smiled and climbed the staircase. “Either that or I’m Delphini Diggory.” She held out her hand, which Albus shook. “Delphi. I look after him—Amos—well, I try. And you are?”

“Albus,” he answered, slightly flushed.

“Of course!” she said excitedly as she sat next to him. “Albus Potter! So Harry is your dad? That’s a bit wow, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” said Albus grimly.

Delphi grimaced. “Ah. Have I just put my foot in it? It’s what they used to say about me at school. Delphini Diggory—there isn’t a hole she couldn’t dig herself into.”

“They do all sorts with my name too,” confessed Albus.

She looked at him carefully. Albus felt comforted by her somehow. He was drawn to her, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he saw himself in her somehow or because she was pretty.

“Delphi,” called Amos from the other room.

“We don’t choose who we’re related to,” said Delphi, getting to her feet. “Amos... isn’t just my patient, he’s my uncle, it’s part of the reason I took the job at Upper Flagley. But that’s made it difficult. It’s tough to live with people stuck in the past, isn't it?”

“Delphi!” Amos called again, this time louder.

“Upper Flagley?” Albus asked.

“St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards.” Delphi smiled softly and said coyly, “Come see us sometime. If you like.”

Albus liked the idea very much. He wondered if he could find a reason to convince his dad to visit Amos and tag along.

“DELPHI!” Amos shouted as loud as his frail voice allowed him.

Delphi descended the staircase (tripping slightly on her way down). She entered the dining room and said, “Yes, Uncle Amos?”

“I believe it’s time we’ve intruded upon Mr. Potter’s doorstep no longer.” There was a defeat in Amos’s voice that struck a chord with Albus. “It seems I was mistaken to believe there would be anything for me here. Grab my chair for me, dear.”

“Yes, Uncle,” she replied and grabbed the back of his wheelchair. Harry watched them leave, looking forlorn. Albus watched Harry, wondering if his father truly would have helped if he could, or if he _could_ help but simply couldn’t be bothered.


	7. Parting Presents

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 7: Parting Presents

Albus sat on his bed, still sleepy from staying up late. He sat still as his family passed back and forth in front of his door. He heard James roar in a frustrated rage as Ginny ran past.

“James, please, ignore your hair and tidy your damn room,” she demanded.

James ran past Albus’s door; his hair had turned a violent shade of pink.

“How can I ignore it? It’s pink!” he complained, more humiliated than Albus had ever seen. “I’m going to have to use my Invisibility Cloak!”

“That’s not why your dad gave you that Cloak,” Ginny explained as James’s headless body returned.

“Who’s seen my Potions book?” Lily asked. She pushed James away from the doorway as she walked past wearing a pair of flamboyant, fluttering fairy wings.

Ginny called from down the hall, “Lily Potter, don’t think you’re wearing those to school tomorrow...”

“I love them, they’re fluttery,” Lily insisted as she left view.

Harry appeared behind Lily, smiling at the chaos. He entered Albus’s room and sat beside him on the bed.

“Hi,” he said. Albus didn’t respond, and together they stewed in the awkward silence. Ginny appeared at the doorway, looking in, watching her boys fondly. Harry continued, “Just delivering a pre-Hogwarts gift—gifts—Ron’s sent this...”

Harry held out a small, pink heart-shaped vial. Albus looked at it dubiously, but didn’t take it.

“Okay,” said Albus blankly. “A love potion. Okay.”

“I think it’s a joke about—I don’t know what,” said Harry as he sat the potion on the bed. “Lily got farting gnomes, James got a comb that’s made his hair turn a shade of pink. Ron—well, Ron’s Ron, you know? I don’t expect it would do much, though, with his brewing skills. He adds too much pearl dust because he thinks the expensive stuff makes it better.”

Albus rolled his eyes. What a hilarious joke to remind him that everyone hates him. After failing to stall any longer, Harry cleared his throat and presented Albus with a small blanket. 

“I also—this is from me...” said Harry.

Albus looked at it, not sure what to make of it. Ginny smiled softly and resumed trying to wrangle Lily and James.

“An old blanket?” asked Albus.

“I thought a lot about what to get you this year,” replied Harry. Albus could tell his dad was making a sincere effort. “James—well, James has nicked the Invisibility Cloak so many times it was practically his already, and Lily—I knew she’d love wings—but you. You’re fourteen years old now, Albus, and I wanted to give you something which—meant something. This...” he clutched the blanket fondly, “is the last thing I had from my mum. The only thing. I was given to the Dursleys wrapped in it. I thought it had gone forever and then, when your great-aunt Petunia died, hidden amongst her possessions, surprisingly, Dudley found this and he kindly sent it on to me, and ever since then—well, anytime I’ve wanted luck I’ve found it and just tried to hold it and I wondered if you...”

“Wanted to hold it too?” asked Albus, unsure but willing to give him a chance. “Okay. Done. Let’s hope it brings me luck. I certainly need some.” Albus indulged his father. He took hold of the blanket—it felt strangely heavy in his hands. He didn’t deserve something that meant so much to Harry. “But you should keep it.”

“I think—believe—Petunia wanted me to have it, that’s why she kept it, and now I want you to have it from me. I didn’t really know my mother—but I think she’d have wanted you to have it too. And maybe—I could come find you—and it—on Hallows’ Eve. I’d like to be with it on the night they died—and that could be good for the two of us...”

Albus felt his stomach turn as he connected the dots. This wasn’t a good luck charm. It was a guilt trip.

“Oh. Okay. I see what this is. I see what you’re doing,” Albus said coldly.

“What?”

“Trying to guilt me into being grateful because—what? You had it worse?” Albus felt his ears go warm.

“What? No—”

“I already know the story. Poor orphan Harry was neglected by Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and bullied by Cousin Dudley and never had a home until he got to Hogwarts and saves the world and now everyone’s grateful. Blah, blah, blah. Great talk, Dad. I’ll keep in mind how grateful I am as I spend _my_ time at Hogwarts feeling neglected and bullied and homeless.”

Albus knew he was going too far, but it was too late to stop himself. The floodgates were opened. Years of pent-up frustration could no longer be contained.

“Albus, I’m just trying—”

“Trying to what, Dad? Trying to fix me with a mouldy blanket? Then I’d hug you and tell you I loved you all along and everything would be better?”

Harry stood, stricken with hurt. “Mouldy blanket?”

Albus burst into tears. “I know what a disappointment I am to you. You really don’t need to rub it in my face.”

“You’re not a disappointment!”

“Spare me,” Albus snapped. He shot up from his bed and looked down at his dad. His mind burned hot. He thought this would bring him peace but it had gone horribly wrong. Suddenly he thought of Scorpius. Scorpius could snap him out of it. Scorpius could comfort him. But Albus was alone with Harry, and he wanted his father to know exactly how he felt. “It’s bad enough I have to live in your shadow. I’m everything you’re not and everyone knows it and reminds me of it every chance they get. I’ll never have friends, or have adventures, or be the hero like you did. And it’s your fault! If it weren’t for you, no one would think I’m just a failure or a... a spare! It’s _your_ fault! And sometimes... sometimes I—”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that sometimes I wish you weren’t my dad!”

Furious, Albus tossed away the blanket. The blanket flew into Ron’s love potion. A small puff of smoke rose from the blanket as the potion poured all over it and the bed.

“No luck or love for me, I guess,” lamented Albus. He looked at his father. A profound mixture of sadness and anger washed across Harry’s face. He stared at the blanket, shaking, composing his next words carefully. A deathly silence filled the room. 

When Harry finally spoke, his voice trembled. “I know that things have been hard on you. I know that it can’t be easy being my son, and maybe you do deserve a better father. But you are _my_ son, and I don’t want it to be lost on you how much I hurt to see you suffering. I only wish I knew how to get you to trust me instead of pushing me away.”

This was a unique anger Albus had never seen from his dad. It was not frustration. It was not catharsis. It wasn’t hate. It was disappointment. It was sadness. It was shame. A chill swept through Albus as he reckoned with how he had managed to hurt his father. This wasn’t what he wanted. “Dad...”

“Finish packing, son,” Harry said coldly. “Train leaves tomorrow.”

Albus watched Harry leave, both distraught, and each wondering if their relationship had reached the point where it was irreparable.


	8. Hut-on-the-Rock

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 8: Hut-on-the-Rock

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Due to events in the Wizarding World unbeknownst to them (which was just how they liked it), they came into possession of a very non-normal child: their nephew Harry Potter. They despised everything magic and unconventional, and Harry was no exception. They neglected him and hid him away as they doted on their unmagical and entirely conventional son, Dudley. When the time came for Harry to receive his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they took him and fled to a dilapidated hut in the sea so that he would never discover the truth about himself.

The hut was not as Harry remembered. A 50-foot door stood of its own accord as there were no walls, only darkness. A staircase led up into a vast emptiness. A swinging lamp hung overhead from a chain that went on as far as the eye could see, casting its light on eleven-year-old Harry Potter.

_THUD. THUD. THUD._ The door shook as a visitor knocked. Harry stood watching the door as Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley Dursley hid, cowering behind a bed. Thunder crashed.

“Mum, I don’t like this,” said Dudley, his plump body quivering.

“I knew we made a mistake coming here,” said Aunt Petunia. She hid her face behind her bony arms. “Vernon. Vernon. There’s nowhere we can hide. Not even a lighthouse is far enough away!”

There was a large _BOOM_. Whoever was at the door had gotten impatient.

“Hold on. Hold on,” said Uncle Vernon. “Whatever it is, it’s not coming in here.” Uncle Vernon got to his feet clutching a gun, though his sheer girth alone could provide them with a substantial barricade.

“We’re cursed! He’s cursed us! The boy had cursed us!” cried Aunt Petunia. She looked at Harry and pointed a long finger at him. “This is all your fault. Get back in your hole.” A door underneath the staircase flew open.

Uncle Vernon stepped forward, and Harry flinched as his uncle pointed the gun at the door. “Whoever’s there, I should warn you—I’m armed.”

_SMASH_. _CRASH. BOOM._ The door fell forward and landed right in front of Harry. In its place stood a bearded man in a ragged coat who’s stature could best be described as a mountain on legs.

The man stepped forward, and with a thunderous voice he said, “Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey.”

“Look. At. Him,” marvelled Dudley.

“Stand back. Stand back,” commanded Uncle Vernon. “Behind me, Petunia. Behind me, Dudley. I’ll soon see this scarramanger off.”

“Scarrawhat?” said the giant as he grabbed Uncle Vernon’s gun. “Haven’t seen one of these for a while.” Then, with no effort at all, the giant twisted the end of the gun and tied it into a knot. “Oops-a-daisy.” He then dropped the gun carelessly to the ground and turned his eyes to Harry. “Harry Potter.”

“Hello,” said Harry nervously.

“Las’ time I saw yeh, yeh was only a baby,” reminisced the giant. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”

“You knew my parents?” Harry asked. Suddenly, a fire burst to life in the fireplace. The darkness surrounding retracted slightly and started simmering restlessly.

“Where’s me manners?” laughed the man. “A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.” From deep inside one of his many coat pockets he produced a slightly squashed chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ written on it in green icing.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, unsure of what to make of the man.

The man chortled. “True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” Hagrid looked around himself. “What about that tea, then, eh? I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

“Hogwhere?” asked Harry.

Hagrid looked surprised. “Hogwarts. Yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

Harry shook his head. “Er—no. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” howled Hagrid. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learnt it all?”

“Learnt what?” Harry asked. 

A whisper too quiet to discern crept out from the darkness.

Hagrid turned menacingly towards Uncle Vernon and exploded, “Do you mean ter tell me, that this boy—this boy!—knows nothin’ abou’—about ANYTHING?”

Uncle Vernon somehow managed to keep his nerve as Hagrid towered over him. “I forbid you to tell the boy anything more!”

“Tell me what?”

More whispers filled the air. They grew louder, but still unintelligible.

Hagrid looked at Uncle Vernon with a cold stare before turning to Harry. “Harry—yer a wizard—yeh changed everything. Yer the most famous wizard in the whole world.”

The whispers grew to a roar. Harry stood alone in the darkness underneath the swinging light which began to flicker. The whispers overtook one another, fading into a sea of noise. But one voice cut through them all. An unmistakable voice. The voice of Lord Voldemort.

_Haaarry Pottttter._


	9. Night Terrors

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 9: Night Terrors

Harry bolted upright in his bed. He breathed deeply as darkness swarmed around him and slowly dissipated as he got his bearings in reality.

“Harry...” Ginny sat up and grabbed her wand from her bedside table.

“It’s fine,” Harry assured her. “Go back to sleep.”

“ _Lumos_ ,” said Ginny, and a light burst from her wand, casting away the darkness. “A nightmare?”

Harry looked at her. “Yes.”

“About what?”

Harry closed his eyes to recall. “The Dursleys—well, it started there—then it became something else.”

Ginny didn’t respond. She looked at him, trying to work out what he wasn’t saying. “Do you want a Sleeping Draught?”

“No. I’ll be fine,” Harry insisted. “Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t seem fine,” she said. She studied him again. He tried to hide his agitation, but Ginny knew him too well. “It can’t have been easy—with Amos Diggory.”

“No, it wasn’t. Refusing a man who only wanted to reach out to his son one last time. Especially when losing him was my fault—”

“That doesn’t seem particularly fair on yourself...”

“—and there’s nothing I can say—nothing I can say to anyone—unless it’s the wrong thing, of course...”

Ginny touched his arm lightly as she realised what he was getting at. “So that’s what’s upsetting you? The night before Hogwarts, it’s never a good night if you don’t want to go. Giving Al the blanket. It was a nice try.”

“It went pretty badly from there,” said Harry and he got out of bed and began pacing.

“I heard,” said Ginny, trying to find the right words to soothe him. “Your and Albus’s relationship will take time. And I’m certain it will grow stronger from it.”

Harry picked up a picture on the dresser of him and a young Albus on a broomstick. Young Albus gripped tightly to his father as they flew in circles, his face alight with the perfect mixture of fear and excitement. Harry tried to remind himself that the Albus in the picture was the same Albus he had just spoken to. “I hated seeing him like that... talking to me like I’m the enemy. I almost broke down in front of him.”

“Maybe that would have been for the best. You can be honest with him, Harry... That’s all he needs.”

Harry sat the picture down and laid back down at Ginny’s feet. “I just wish he were more like James or Lily.”

“Yeah, maybe not that honest,” said Ginny dryly.

Harry smiled. “No, I wouldn’t change a thing about him... but I can understand _them_ , and...”

“Albus is different and isn’t that a good thing,” she explained. She combed her fingers through his hair. “And he can tell, you know, when you’re putting on your Harry Potter front. He wants to see the real you.”

Harry sat up and recalled a particularly apt aphorism. “‘The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.’” Ginny looked at him, surprised. He explained, “Dumbledore.”

“A strange thing to say to a child,” she remarked.

“Not when you believe that child will have to die to save the world.” 

“Luckily Albus isn’t in the business of saving the world.”

Harry’s dream returned to him. What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? What would his old Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney say about it? He imagined her saying something useless like, _You_ _want to recapture the glory of your youth, your dead aunt is plotting your demise, and you should eat some cake because your blood sugar is low._ Then he heard Voldemort’s voice calling his name again. He gasped. As if by instinct, he reached for his scar.

“Harry?” asked Ginny, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” dismissed Harry. He took his place back in bed. “Reflex. I’m fine. I hear you. I’ll try to be—”

“Does your scar hurt?” Ginny asked gravely.

“No—not _hurt_ exactly. Not like before,” explained Harry, trying to find the right words to describe the sensation he was feeling. “It’s like... my scar... _remembers_ hurting.”

“How does a scar remember?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, aware that his explanation was inadequate.

Ginny looked both confused and concerned. She said, “But your scar stopped hurting you when the piece of Voldemort's soul inside it was destroyed. Why would it suddenly... _remember_ hurting?”

Harry remembered how his scar used to hurt whenever Voldemort was near, and wondered why it would be remembering that pain now. He remembered his meeting with Hermione and suggested grimly, “Maybe it knows something I don’t.”


	10. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 10: Aboard the Hogwarts Express

As Albus rode in an uncomfortable silence with his family to King’s Cross, he couldn’t help but notice the urgency with which his father drove. Harry was still angry about the day before, and Albus was too ashamed to talk about it.

As they boarded the train, James insisted (or more like forced) he and Albus ride to Hogwarts together. It became clear when James refused to let him leave and rejoin Scorpius that James’s sudden desire for brotherly bonding was orchestrated by their mother. He couldn’t be angry at her for trying, but Albus had no interest in being an unwanted guest in James’s group of friends. He managed to sneak away after a few hours when James decided to show off his Invisibility Cloak to his friends by terrorising first years.

Albus rushed down the moving train. Before he could reach his compartment, however, he was stopped by Rose as she saw him approach.

“Albus, I’ve been looking for you...” said Rose. 

“Me?” asked Albus, failing to avoid her. “Why?

“Albus, it’s the start of the fourth year,” Rose said as she slowly pieced together her thoughts, “and so the start of a new year for us. I want to be friends again.”

“We were never friends,” said Albus plainly.

“That’s harsh!” said Rose, insulted. “You were my best friend when I was six!”

“That was a long time ago,” refuted Albus. He attempted to move past her but she grabbed him and pulled him into her compartment. Albus rolled his eyes, frustrated, and decided to indulge her.

“Have you heard the rumours?” she asked as if idle gossip was a natural thing for them to do. “Big Ministry raid a few days ago. Your dad apparently was incredibly brave.”

“How do you always know about these things and I don’t?” Albus asked. Surely his own dad would have mentioned it. Although, now that he thought about it, he had heard something about a raid... 

“Apparently he—the wizard they raided—Theodore Nott—I think—had all sorts of artifacts that broke all sorts of laws including—and this has got them all gooey—an illegal Time-Turner. And quite a superior one at that.”

It clicked. He _had_ heard about the raid on Theodore Nott and the Time-Turner. But... his dad insisted the Time-Turner was just a rumour.

“A Time-Turner?” he asked. “Dad found a Time-Turner?”

“Shh!” hushed Rose. She smiled wide. “Yes, I know. Great, right?”

“You’re sure?” Albus asked. If the daughter of the Minister for Magic knew about the Time-Turner, then there must be some truth to the rumour.

“Entirely,” replied Rose confidently.

He lied. Harry Potter lied to Amos Diggory.

“Now I _have_ to find Scorpius,” said Albus, and he left the compartment.

Rose chased after him. “Albus!”

Albus stopped, turned decisively, and asked her point-blank, “Who told you to talk to me?”

Rose sprang back. “Okay, _maybe_ your mum owled my dad—but only because she’s worried about you. And I just think—”

“Leave me alone, Rose.”

Albus walked on but Rose continued to tail him. He pulled open the door to his and Scorpius’s usual compartment where Scorpius sat with his nose in a book.

“Albus!” said Scorpius. His eyes turned to Rose and he became noticeably eager and clumsy. “Oh, hello, Rose, what do you smell of?”

Rose looked at him as though unsure whether or not to be insulted. “What do I _smell_ of?” she repeated.

Scorpius realised what he said. Just as inarticulately, he explained, “No, I meant it as a nice thing, you smell like a mixture of fresh flowers and fresh—bread.” Scorpius winced, dissatisfied with his explanation.

Rose had enough. She turned to Albus with a side-eye to Scorpius. “Albus, I’m here, okay? If you need me.”

Apologetically and desperate, Scorpius said, “I mean, nice bread, good bread, bread... what’s wrong with bread?”

Rose walked away, shaking her head. “What’s wrong with bread!”

Scorpius reflected on their interaction. He half-smiled. “I think she’s really coming around.”

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere...” said Albus once Rose had long gone.

“And now you found me. Ta-da! I was hardly hiding. You know how I like to—get on early. Stops people staring. Shouting. Writing ‘son of Voldemort’ on my trunk. That one’s made a surprise resurgence. At least I understand it, though. I think people are inventing swear words just to find new ways to insult me.”

Albus smiled. He missed Scorpius. He needed his friend. Without the ability (or desire) to stop himself, he threw his arms around Scorpius. He held him in a fierce grip. For a moment, all was right with the world.

“Okay. Hello. Um,” said Scorpius awkwardly, unsure what to make of this development. Scorpius was tense at first, then relaxed. “Have we hugged before? Do we hug?”

They dislocated. Albus grinned. “Just a slightly weird twenty-four hours.”

“What happened in them?” Scorpius asked.

“I’ll explain later,” said Albus. And, with a rush of adrenaline and a plan still forming in his brain, he stated, “We have to get off this train.”

“Too late,” said Scorpius just as the train blew its whistle. “The train is moving. Hogwarts ahoy!”

“Then we have to get off a moving train,” said Albus simply. He jumped onto a seat and struggled opening the window just as the Trolley Lady stopped at their compartment.

“Anything from the Trolley, dears?” she asked, but they ignored her.

“A moving magical train,” said Scorpius reluctantly.

Albus managed to open the window and made to climb out of it.

“Pumpkin Pasty? Cauldron Cake?” asked the Trolley Lady.

“Albus Severus Potter, get that strange look out of your eye,” demanded Scorpius.

Time was of the essence. He needed Scorpius to come along. Whatever he was planning... he needed help. But how to make Scorpius okay with jumping off a moving train?

“Question,” posed Albus. “What do you know about Cedric Diggory?”

“Wait, I know this one!” Scorpius exclaimed excitedly. He quickly searched the encyclopedia he kept hidden in his brain. “Cedric Diggory... Cedric Diggory... OH! He competed in the Triwizard Tournament with your dad—they decided to win together, only the cup was a Portkey, which transported them to Voldemort. Cedric was killed. Why are you asking about Cedric Diggory, and what does he have to do with us jumping off a train?”

“Because—” Albus explained, “a couple nights ago Amos Diggory came to our house. When he asked for the Time-Turner, my father denied that it even existed. He lied to an old man who just wanted to tell his son he loved him. And he did it because he didn’t care—because he doesn’t care. Everyone talks about all the brave things Dad did. But he wouldn’t even let an old man say goodbye to his son. A son who died because of Dad. So we will. We’re going to use a Time-Turner. We’re going to take Amos to see Cedric.”

Scorpius looked at him, bewildered. “Okay, whatever was holding your brain together seems to have snapped.”

“I’m going to do this, Scorpius. I need to do this. And you know as well as I do, I’ll entirely mess it up if you don’t come with me. Come on.”

Albus grinned and climbed out of the window onto the roof of the train. Scorpius hesitated. He groaned. He twisted his face. And then he hoisted himself up and followed Albus onto the roof of the train.


	11. Overboard the Hogwarts Express

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 11: Overboard the Hogwarts Express

A fierce wind whistled from all directions. Albus and Scorpius struggled to keep their balance. Scorpius grabbed Albus’s shoulder for support but felt no more steady.

“Okay,” shouted Scorpius over the wind, “now we’re on the roof of a train, it’s fast, it’s scary, this has been great, I feel like I’ve learnt a lot about me, something about you, but—”

Albus ignored him. He looked forward, putting the pieces of his plan together. “As I calculate it we should be approaching the viaduct soon and then it’ll be a short hike to St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards...”

“The what? The where? Look, I am excited as you are to be a rebel for the first time in my life—yay—train roof—fun—but now—oh.” Scorpius froze as he saw something behind him, but Albus kept looking for the viaduct.

“The water will be an extremely useful backup if our Cushioning Charm doesn’t work,” said Albus.

“Albus,” shouted Scorpius. “The Trolley Lady.”

“You want a snack for the journey?”

“No. Albus. The Trolley Lady is coming toward us,” Scorpius explained, alarmed.

“No, she can’t be, we’re on top of the train...” dismissed Albus. Scorpius grabbed him and turned him to witness a most peculiar sight: the Trolley Lady approached nonchalantly behind them on the top of the moving train, all while pushing her trolley.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” she asked as sweetly as ever. “Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?”

“Oh,” said Albus, having difficulty believing what he was seeing.

“People don’t know much about me,” she said. “They buy my Cauldron Cakes—but they never really notice me. I don’t remember the last time someone asked my name.”

“What is your name?” Albus asked.

The Trolley Lady thought for a moment, and then laughed. “I’ve forgotten. I don’t even know if I have a name. All I can tell you is that Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was built over my nest, nearly two decades ago.”

“Nest?” repeated Scorpius.

The Trolley Lady’s voice began to sour. “My egg was incubated in the magic of generations of wizards, and when I hatched, I vowed to Ottaline Gambol herself to protect this train. And never— _never_ —have I let anyone off this train before they reached their destination.”

The Trolley Lady picked up a Pumpkin Pasty. The boys’ eyes widened as they watched it burst into flame in her hand. She threw it behind them and it exploded, knocking them off their feet. They scrambled frantically to stay on the train.

“Some have tried—Sirius Black and his cronies, Fred and George Weasley. ALL HAVE FAILED. BECAUSE THIS TRAIN—IT DOESN’T LIKE PEOPLE GETTING OFF.”

Her hands transfigured into sharp spikes. Her hair grew wild. A pair of large, grey, frail wings exploded from her back and flapped pathetically. She smiled a devilish grin.

Albus cowered as their pursuer approached and her spikes continued to grow. “Scorpius, any idea why the Trolley Lady suddenly has wings?”

Scorpius’s anxious reaction didn’t inspire hope as he worked out what they were facing. “She’s a Harpy—and a powerful one, too. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters must have been a pretty rich pool of magic for her egg to sponge up. We don’t stand a chance!”

Albus’s eyes darted around, looking for a way out. They were about to reach the viaduct. His eyes fell upon her wings.

“Yes we do! Look at her wings—she can’t fly! The viaduct is coming up now. If we jump into the water below, she won’t be able to come after us!”

“Albus, this is a bad idea,” warned Scorpius.

Albus hesitated. “Is it?” He looked down at the water and realised the time for hesitation had passed. “Too late now. Cushioning Charms ready? Three. Two. One. _Molliare_!”

Albus pointed his wand at the water below. A yellow spell shot out from it as he leapt off the roof of the train. 

“Albus... Albus...” called Scorpius. He looked down desperately after his friend. He looked back at the approaching Trolley Lady with her hair wild, her wingspan wide... her spikes particularly spiky. “Well, as fun as you clearly look, I have to go after my friend. _Molliare_!” Scorpius summoned a courage he didn’t know he possessed, pinched his nose, and jumped after Albus.

A sharp, angry, ear-splitting shriek echoed behind them as they fell, having successfully escaped the train and its guardian.


	12. Old Wounds

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 12: Old Wounds

Harry poured over his paperwork once more. Darkness was approaching and the warning signs had been sitting unheeded on his desk. What form that darkness took was still unknown to him. If his dream was any indication then Voldemort may be playing a role, but what role that was also remained a mystery. All he had were the seemingly unconnected movements of the remnants of Voldemort’s army and an intense instinct that they were pointing to a greater danger, but he knew this information must be presented to the public in order to get ahead of the threat before it was upon them.

Harry stuffed his paperwork into a folder, and his folders into his briefcase. He took a quick look in the mirror and straightened his robes as a memo flew into his office and landed on his desk. It read:

_Attendance is growing higher than I anticipated.  
Minerva arrived not long ago but must return to Hogwarts before the train arrives.  
__Ginny managed to talk Draco into attending, just don’t ask him why his nose is bruised._  
Ready when you are.  
— _Hermione_

Harry left his office, suitcase in hand. His hand trembled. The magical beasts Voldemort commanded were in resurgence while his Death Eaters were nowhere to be found. Were his suspicions right? Did he have enough evidence to present it to the Ministry?

He put a smile on and said hello to the typical crowd of ministry officials who came up to greet him. He held a conversation about contraband wand cores with his brother-in-law Percy in the lift, all the while his mind took stock of the dark forces gathering at their doorstep. They parted ways as they arrived at the Grand Meeting Room.

The meeting room was flooded with wizards and witches, each rattling and chattering like all true wizards and witches can. On a stage at the head of the room stood Hermione. Though she appeared entirely professional, Harry could tell she was just as nervous as he was.

“Order. Order,” she said as Harry walked up to join her. Ron, Ginny and Draco stood at the foot of the stage. The other members of the meeting continued their conversations. “Do I have to conjure silence?” warned Hermione. The chatter didn’t cease. Hermione took out her wand and with it drew the words quite literally from the crowd’s mouths and silence fell on the room. When they came to order, Hermione returned the crowd’s voices. “Good. Welcome to this Extraordinary General Meeting. I’m so pleased so many of you could make it. The wizarding world has been living in peace now for many years. It’s twenty-two years since we defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, and I’m delighted to say there is a new generation being brought up having known only the slightest conflict. Until now. Harry.”

Hermione motioned to Harry and he stepped forward. He cleared his throat. “Voldemort’s allies have been showing movement for a few months now. We’ve followed trolls making their way across Europe, giants starting to cross the seas, and the werewolves—well, I’m distressed to say we lost sight of them some weeks ago. We don’t know where they’re going or who’s encouraged them to move—but we are aware they are moving—and we are concerned what it might mean. So we’re asking—if anyone has seen anything? Felt anything? If you could raise a wand, we will hear everyone speak.” Harry noticed Headmistress Minerva McGonagall raise her wand from the crowd. “Professor McGonagall—thank you.”

Everyone’s attention turned to McGonagall as she spoke. “It did look like the potions stores had been interfered with when we returned from summer break, but not a huge amount of ingredients were missing, some Boomslang skin and lacewing flies, nothing on the Restricted Register. We put it down to Peeves.”

“Thank you, Professor. We shall investigate,” said Hermione. She looked around the room for more volunteers, but none rose their wand. “Nobody else? Fine, and—I feel this is worth mentioning as this hasn’t been the case since Voldemort—Harry’s scar is hurting again.”

“Not hurting, exactly—” Harry protested, with a look to Ginny. But this didn’t stop the immediate commotion.

“Voldemort is dead,” Malfoy insisted over the murmuring, “Voldemort is gone.”

“Yes, Draco, Voldemort is dead,” said Hermione as the room slowly returned to a hush as she spoke, “but these things all lead us to think that there is a possibility that Voldemort—or some trace of Voldemort—might be back.”

The crowd exploded. Everyone had questions. Everyone had a statement to make. 

Harry had to shout to be heard. “Now this is difficult but we have to ask it to rule it out. Those of you with a Dark Mark... Have you felt anything? Even a twinge?”

Malfoy looked affronted. He spat, “Back to being prejudiced against those with a Dark Mark, are we, Potter?”

“No, Draco,” said Hermione. “Harry is simply trying to—”

“You know what this is about?” said Malfoy. “Harry just wants his face back in the newspapers again. We’ve had rumours of Voldemort coming back from the _Daily Prophet_ once a year every year—”

Harry’s composure slipped as he put his foot down. “None of those rumours were from me!”

“Really?” rebuked Malfoy. “Doesn’t your wife edit the _Daily Prophet_?”

Ginny stepped forward, outraged. “The sports pages!”

“Draco,” said Hermione calmly. “Harry brought this matter to the attention of the Ministry. And I—as Minister for Magic—”

“ _Caretaker_ Minister for Magic,” corrected Malfoy condescendingly. “Let’s not pretend anyone in this room would take you seriously if you weren’t standing next to Potter.”

Ginny had to hold Ron back as he lunged forward.

“Do you want a smack in the mouth?” threatened Ron.

Malfoy ignored him and continued his rant, “Face it—his celebrity impacts upon you all. And how better to get everyone whispering the Potter name again than with ‘ _my scar is hurting, my scar is hurting._ ’ And do you know what this all means—that the gossipmongers once again have the opportunity to torment my son with more ridiculous rumours.”

Harry spoke carefully as to not set Malfoy off, “Draco, no one is saying this has anything to do with Scorpius...”

“Well, I, for one, think this meeting is a sham. And I’m leaving.” Furious, Malfoy stormed out. The crowd slowly dispersed after him. 

Hermione called out desperately, “No. That’s not the way... Come back. We need a strategy.”

Harry watched with disappointment and worry as the crowd thinned. He knew something was happening—something big. But how would he be able to protect people from it if he didn’t even know what he was looking for?


	13. St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 13: St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards

Albus and Scorpius climbed out of the water, each laughing. As they got to their feet, Scorpius syphoned off the water and calculated how long it would take them to get to St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards. Since they jumped off at the viaduct, they were definitely in Yorkshire. From there he estimated it would be a two hour walk to Upper Flagley. 

Albus’s hastily assembled plan definitely had kinks to work out. For one, they were in Yorkshire and the Ministry of Magic (and the Time-Turner, presumably) was in London. Their modes of transportation were limited; neither could drive, fly, or apparate. Once the train turned up at Hogsmeade Station without them on it, the Ministry would likely monitor the Floo network, so travel by fireplace would most definitely get them caught once their disappearance became known. In addition, they had no means of entering the Ministry without being recognised. Albus wished he had thought to nick James’s Invisibility Cloak before jumping off the train.

When they arrived at Upper Flagley, they found a number of Muggles turn to give them weird looks. They realised they were still wearing their school robes and stood out to the non-magic residents of the small lakeside town. The robes did come in handy, however, as an old witch approached them to ask if they were meant to be on their way to Hogwarts, and kindly gave them directions to St. Oswald’s when Scorpius told her they were visiting a sick uncle.

Following the witch's directions, they turned down an alley next to the Green Pastures Pub. They walked down the stone alley and passed under an archway to a seemingly dead end. Opposite the archway hung a plaque that read: _In memory of our first mayor Barnabas Hayes, who once drunkenly urinated here._

Albus took his wand and tapped the letters O-S-W-A-L-D as they appeared chronologically on the plaque. The stone walls began to quiver as they rotated around them. When they stopped, the archway stood in front of them, revealing a wooden door. Albus and Scorpius looked at each other, nodded, and entered St. Oswald’s.

Mayhem. Utter mayhem. A conga line of wheelchairs danced in front of them as they entered the home. An elderly wizard walked past with his walker frame on a leash like a dog. A group of witches clapped as they bewitched a pair of male nurses to dance the tarantella. A woman sat with a pair of enchanted knitting needles drawing from a number of balls of wool floating around her (and the jumper of one sleeping gentleman). One lady held a house-elf like a baby and fed it from a bottle, and it looked positively delighted to receive such attention.

Albus had never witnessed magic being used with such reckless abandon. He relished it. He hoped he could spend his retirement transfiguring walking sticks into vuvuzelas and playing Bedevilling Bingo.

“Um, excuse me...” called Albus and Scorpius. No one paid them any mind. “Excuse me. EXCUSE ME!” A box of tissues exploded next to them and the boys ducked as a flock of birds burst forth from it.

“Okay, this place is wild,” said Scorpius as one of the birds assailed him to wipe a smudge off his cheek. The knitting witch smiled at them across the room.

Albus called out, “We’re looking for Amos Diggory.”

The room fell into total silence. The wheelchairs ground to a halt, the birds turned back into tissues, balls of wool fell to the floor, and the walker frame rolled over onto its side. At the mention of Amos Diggory, the fun was sucked out of the room and became slightly depressing, like they were suddenly in the presence of a Dementor.

“And what you boys want with that miserable old sod?” moaned the knitting woman.

“Albus?” called a perky voice.

Albus turned. Down a hallway, Delphi appeared walking towards them eagerly. Relieved, Albus went to greet her with Scorpius following cautiously behind. “Albus! You came? How wonderful! Come and say hello to Amos!” She grabbed the boys by the arms and led them back down the hall.


	14. Amos Diggory's Request

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 14: Amos Diggory’s Request

Amos Diggory looked like heartbreak personified. The cheeks on his dour face sagged. His hair had gone grey and thin. His glasses had fallen to the end of his large, hairy nose. He was a man who had utterly capitulated to grief. Albus wondered if Amos hadn't lost the ability to walk at all, just the will to do so. 

Albus tried his best to explain why he had skived off the train to visit him. He’d expected Amos might be grateful for the help, or at least vindicated to know Harry lied to him. It came as a shock, then, when Amos instead became offended by Albus’s offer.

“So let me get this straight,” said Amos irritably. “You overhear a conversation—a conversation which was not meant for you to overhear—and you decided—without prompting, in fact, without leave—to interfere, and interfere hard, in someone else’s business.”

“My father lied to you—I know he did,” explained Albus. “They do have a Time-Turner.”

“Of course they do,” said Amos. “Now, shouldn’t you two be at Hogwarts?”

“Sir, we’re here to help,” said Albus desperately.

Amos turned his chair away from them and his voice cracked. “Help? What use could a pair of undersized teenagers be for me?” 

“My father proved you don’t have to be a grown-up to help people,” said Albus, growing frustrated.

Amos scoffed, “So I should allow you to get involved because you’re a Potter?” 

“No!” Albus insisted. There seemed to be no chance of convincing him that Albus and Scorpius truly came to help, and even less of a chance of convincing him they could actually pull it off.

“I daresay your father would be furious if I were to allow you to do such a thing.”

“Sir, please—”

“And to bring a Malfoy along with you, who’s father so famously served Voldemort! It’s an insult! And I know very well you’re in Slytherin house yourself, Potter. How am I to trust that I’m not a pawn in some dark scheme?”

Albus looked to Scorpius to see him crestfallen. Delphi looked stunned. Albus turned back to Amos. “I only want to help you, Mr. Diggory! Please, you have to trust me!”

Amos raised his voice as much as he could muster, shouting, “Did you not hear me, boy? I see no reason to trust you.” Desperately, Amos raised his wand at Albus and Scorpius, his hand quivering and his eyes beginning to form tears. “So go. Now. You’ve humiliated a old man long enough—now begone!”

Albus looked at the wand and deflated. He jumped off a train, risked expulsion, risked his father’s wrath all to be turned away by the man he intended to help.

“Come on, mate,” said Scorpius heavily, “if there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s knowing when we’re not wanted.”

Albus hesitated. He searched his mind desperately for something to say... something to convince Amos. He was at a loss. When Scorpius pulled his arm, Albus gave in and started to leave. He felt foolish for believing his plans could fall into place so easily.

Delphi spoke up before they could shut the door. “I can think of one reason why you can trust them, Uncle.” The boys stopped. Delphi walked over and knelt at Amos’s side. “They’re _here_. They’re offering to bravely put themselves at risk to reunite you with your son. In fact, I’m pretty sure they put themselves at risk even getting here...”

Delphi kissed the top of Amos’s head. He sat still for a moment, deep in thought. He looked at Delphi, and then turned to look at the boys.

“Why?” asked Amos hesitantly. “Why do you want to put yourself at risk? What’s in it for you?”

Albus felt hope rising up in his chest. “I know how it feels to be considered a spare,” said Albus earnestly. “Your son didn’t deserve to be killed, Mr. Diggory. Maybe... maybe helping you is what I’m meant to do. Maybe helping you can prove I’m more than a spare.”

Tears filled Amos’s eyes. “My son—my son was the best thing that ever happened to me—and you’re right, it was an injustice—a gross injustice. But I’ve grown so old, Mr. Potter... You may be young and adventurous, but those days are long past for me. But if you’re serious...”

“We’re deadly serious,” insisted Albus.

“And you understand the dangers... ?”

“We know,” Albus affirmed.

“Do we?” asked Scorpius, side-eyeing Albus.

“Then I will compose a letter.” Amos rolled himself to his desk and took up a quill and began writing on some parchment. “I may not hear my son’s voice again, but if I could just let him know all the things I never got the chance to tell him, I will rest easier. Delphi—perhaps if you were prepared to accompany them?”

“If that would make you happy, Uncle,” said Delphi. She grinned at Albus, and he returned it.

“Then I will permit you to deliver my son the letter,” agreed Amos. After a few quiet seconds of quill scratching, Amos folded the parchment and sealed it in an envelope. He handed it to Albus, who accepted it like an eager owl. “You do understand even getting the Time-Turner will risk your lives?”

“We’re ready to put our lives at risk,” said Albus without a second thought.

“Are we?” Scorpius squeaked, growing increasingly concerned.

Amos looked at them doubtfully, and spoke gravely. “I hope you have it in you.”


	15. Dinner With the Potters

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 15: Dinner With the Potters

The fireplace blazed with green flames as Albus poked his head through the opening to make sure the sitting room was empty. Satisfied, he tumbled through the fireplace into his house, with Scorpius following after. 

“We only have enough Floo Powder left to meet Delphi in London,” whispered Scorpius. “We’ll have to find something that belongs to Ron and Hermione here.”

They heard Hermione’s voice coming from the kitchen. “I’ve told Draco again and again—no one in the Ministry is saying anything about Scorpius. The rumours aren’t coming from us.”

“They’re here!” whispered Albus. The two moved to the hallway where they wouldn’t be seen. “I’ll run upstairs and find something of my dad’s. You check down here for my aunt and uncle.”

Scorpius nodded and Albus tiptoed upstairs.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat around the kitchen table, eating together.

“I wrote to him—after he lost Astoria—to ask if there’s anything we could do,” said Ginny. “I thought maybe—as he was such a good friend to Albus—maybe Scorpius might want to stay over part of the Christmas break or... My owl came back with a letter containing one simple sentence: ‘Tell your husband to refute these allegations about my son once and for all.’”

“He’s obsessed,” said Hermione.

“He’s a mess—a grieving mess,” said Ginny.

Scorpius was touched, both by his father’s and Ginny’s concern for him. He shook himself and remembered the task at hand. He sneaked over to the coat rack and started rummaging.

“And I’m sorry for his loss,” said Ron, “but when he accuses Hermione of... Well...” Ron caught Harry’s worrying face. “Oi droopy drawers, like I say to her all the time, it could be nothing.”

“Her?” rebuffed Hermione.

“The trolls could be going to a party,” Ron suggested, “the giants to a wedding, you could be getting bad dreams because you’re worried about Albus, and your scar could be hurting because you’re getting old.”

“Getting old? Thanks, mate,” said Harry with thick sarcasm.

Ron rambled on, “Honestly, every time I sit down I make an ‘ooof’ noise. An ‘ooof.’ And my feet—the trouble I’m having with my feet—I could write songs about the pain my feet give me—maybe your scar is like that.”

“You talk a lot of rubbish,” Ginny remarked, half-amused, half-annoyed.

“I consider it my speciality,” Ron replied. “That and my range of Skiving Snackboxes. And my love for all of you. Even Skinny Ginny,” he teased.

“If you don’t behave, Ronald Weasley, I will tell Mum,” said Ginny sharply. 

“You wouldn’t,” dared Ron.

Albus tiptoed hurriedly down the stairs again, wielding a razor. “Found this by dad’s sink. Definitely his. You find anything?” he asked.

Scorpius held out his findings, his face repulsed. “One partially eaten toffee from Hermione’s pocket, and one slightly damp handkerchief from Ron’s. This better be worth it.”

“It will,” said Albus. “Let’s go.” The two crept back into the sitting room. Albus threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace. As the flames turned green he whispered, “Whitehall,” and the two disappeared into the flue.

Ginny turned in her chair. “Did someone light the fireplace?” she asked.

Ron checked his pockets curiously. “Hugo!” called Ron into the sitting room. “If you don’t stop nicking my wand, I swear on Harry’s grave you will not be going to Hogwarts next year!”

“ _Ron_!” reprimanded Hermione.

“What?” said Ron innocently. “Old Voldy mucked up killing Harry twice. If he _is_ back, I’m sure Harry’ll be fine.”

Hermione shook her head. “If some part of Voldemort survived, in whatever form, we need to be prepared. And I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” admitted Ginny.

“Nothing scares me,” said Ron with bravado. “Apart from Mum,” he added.

“I mean it, Harry, I will not be Cornelius Fudge on this one,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron. “I will not stick my head in the sand. And I don’t care how unpopular that makes me with Draco Malfoy.”

Ron smirked. “You never really were one for popularity, were you?” Hermione glared at Ron witheringly as she threw her hand to hit him, but he leaned out of the way. “Missed,” he teased, just as Ginny took her own shot at hitting him without the playfulness. He winced and rubbed the point of impact on his arm. “Hit. Very solid hit.”

As they chuckled at Ron’s pain, an owl swooped into the room from the open window. It circled around the room, dropped a letter onto Harry’s plate, and took off out the window.

“Bit late for an Owl isn’t it?” remarked Hermione.

Harry opened the letter, surprised. “It’s from Professor McGonagall.”

“What does it say?” asked Ginny.

Harry continued reading and as he did so, his face dropped. “Ginny, it’s Albus—Albus and Scorpius—they never made it to school. They’re missing.”


	16. A Duplicate Trio

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 16: A Duplicate Trio

Scorpius squinted at the glass of foul, bubbling brown liquid-like substance in his hand. He stirred the potion with Harry’s razor, becoming more and more repulsed. Albus dipped Ron’s handkerchief into his potion like a teabag, while Delphi’s potion immediately swallowed and dissolved Hermione’s toffee.

They stood huddled together in a cellar in Whitehall. A high window shone a thin sliver of dust-filled light on them. By now, the Hogwarts Express should have arrived at school without them aboard. A dimly-lit cellar was about the only place they’d be able to show their face.

“So we just take it?” Scorpius asked apprehensively.

“Scorpius, do I really need to explain to you—übergeek and Potions expert—what Polyjuice does?” asked Albus, who seemed to not understand Scorpius’s reservations. “Thanks to Delphi’s brilliant preparation work, we are going to take this potion and be transformed, and thus disguised we will be able to enter the Ministry of Magic.”

“Okay,” said Scorpius, “two points, one, is it painful?”

Delphi looked at him reassuringly. “Very—as I understand it.”

“Thank you. Good to know,” said Scorpius who, if nothing else, appreciated the honesty. “Second point: Do either of you know what Polyjuice tastes of? Because I’ve heard it tastes of fish and if it does then I will just vomit it back up. Fish doesn’t agree with me. Never has. Never will.”

“Consider us warned,” said Delphi. She braced herself and knocked back her potion. She smacked her lips. “It doesn’t taste of fish,” she said as her skin began to bubble. Her body began to twitch and shiver as though a thousand spiders crawled under her skin, and her expression suggested the transformation was entirely as painful as the gurgling and sizzling noises suggested. “Actually it tastes quite pleasant, yum. It is a bit painful but...” She burped loudly. Scorpius and Albus recoiled at the rancid stench. “Take it back,” she said in a winded voice. “There is a—slight—” Another burp as her fleshed bubbled and stretched one last time. The transformation was complete. Hermione Granger-Weasley’s likeness now stood before them. Delphi, with Hermione’s voice, said, “Slight—overpowering—fishy residue.”

Albus’s eyes widened. “Okay, that’s—wow.”

“Double wow,” added Scorpius.

Delphi examined her new body. “This really doesn’t feel how I—” She reacted with surprise at the sound of her voice. “I even sound like her! Triple wow.”

“Right,” said Albus nervously. “Me next.”

“No,” demanded Scorpius. “No way, José. If we’re doing this,” he put on a pair of round spectacles and smiled, “we’re doing it together.”

Albus nodded and threw aside the handkerchief as Scorpius disposed of the razor. They steeled themselves and raised their glasses.

Albus counted down, “Three. Two. One.”

They held their noses and swallowed their potions. Albus found the feeling of the gloop crawling down his throat to be unusual, but otherwise tasteless. “No, that’s good,” said Albus, surprised. And then the potion dropped into his stomach, bringing with it a twisting, pulling, moulting sensation. Albus doubled over in agonising pain. “That’s less good.”

Scorpius could feel every bone being pulled, every inch of skin being stretched, every hair being tugged, and worst of all he felt a fishy gas bubble rising up in his stomach. He retched at the same time as he cried out in pain.

In what must have been seconds but felt like hours of unending torture, Albus and Scorpius no longer stood in the cellar. Instead, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter took their place.

Albus looked at where Scorpius previously stood to see, instead, his dad. “This is going to be slightly weird, isn’t it?” he remarked awkwardly.

Scorpius conjured his best Harry Potter impression. He mimicked Harry’s angry face and waved his finger dramatically. “Go to your room. Go straight to your room. You’ve been an incredibly awful and bad son.”

Albus sighed. “Scorpius...”

“It was your idea—I be him and you be Ron!” Scorpius said as he tossed his cloak over his shoulder in a very Harry Potter-like way. His stomach rumbled. “I just wanted to have a little fun before I...” But he was cut off by a loud, unpleasant and fishy smelling burp. “Okay, so that’s utterly horrible.”

Albus checked out his new body and shook his—or, rather, Ron’s—stomach. “You know, he hides it well, but Uncle Ron’s got a bit of a gut growing. I’m starting to think mum was right to have us cut back on sweets.”

Delphi moved to the exit and checked to see if the coast was clear. “We should go—don’t you think?” 

The boys agreed, and they exited the cellar onto the street, and crossed to a telephone box. They stuff all three of their now much taller bodies into it. Albus picked up the phone and dialled 62442.

The moment had arrived. There was no turning back, and no second chances. They smiled at each other as the telephone box lowered into the Ministry of Magic. A woman’s voice from the receiver welcomed them. “Welcome, Harry Potter. Welcome, Hermione Granger. Welcome, Ron Weasley.”


	17. Meeting of the Search Party

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 17: Meeting of the Search Party

Harry, Ginny, and Draco paced around a small meeting room, wracked with worry. Hermione stood over a table with a map stretched across it, which had a red line circled around Yorkshire.

Draco looked over the map again. “Have we searched thoroughly beside the tracks... ?” he asked.

“My department have searched once and are searching again,” replied Harry.

“And the Trolley Lady is not able to tell us anything useful?” asked Draco.

“Only that they went missing around Yorkshire,” said Hermione. “The Trolley Lady is furious. She keeps going on about letting down Ottaline Gambol. You know how protective Harpies are over their nests. She prides herself on keeping the passengers safe.”

“Have there been any instances of magic reported by Muggles?” asked Ginny.

“None so far,” said Hermione. “I have made the Muggle Prime Minister aware and he is filing what is known as a misper. Sounds like a spell. It isn’t.”

Draco scoffed. “So now we’re relying on Muggles to find our children? Have we told them about Harry’s scar too?” he asked dismissively. 

“We’re merely asking the Muggles to help,” Hermione explained.

“And it isn’t my scar hurting that has me worried,” explained Harry. “It’s my worry that has my scar hurting. The fragment of Voldemort’s soul he accidentally put in me... it could sense when Voldemort was near. And now... it’s like a subconscious part of me is seeing the signs and is trying to set off the alarms. Dark forces are at work—I can feel it. And maybe it has something to do with our sons going missing.”

“This is not Death Eater-related,” demanded Draco.

“I’m not sure I share your confidence,” said Hermione.

“I’m not confident, I’m right,” spat Draco. “The sort of cretins pursuing Dark Magic now... My son is a Malfoy, they wouldn’t dare.”

Suggested Harry, “Unless there’s something new out there, something to—”

“I agree with Draco,” interrupted Ginny. “If this is a kidnap—taking Albus I understand, taking them both...”

Harry looked to Ginny and saw not fear, but a sadness in her eyes. He could see the truth he was trying to avoid. Guilt struck through him like lightning.

Draco pieced together the alternative explanation. “And Scorpius is a follower, not a leader, despite everything I’ve tried to instill in him. So it’s undoubtedly Albus who got him from that train and my question is, where would he take him?”

“Harry,” said Ginny softly, almost pleading, “they’ve run away, you and I know it.”

Draco looked at them, watching the two stare at each other as a full conversation passed unspoken between them. 

“Do you? Know it? What aren’t you telling us?” urged Draco. Harry looked away, too ashamed to talk. “Whatever information you’re concealing, I recommend you share it now.”

Harry sighed. “Albus and I had an argument, the day before last.”

“And... ?” asked Draco.

Harry hesitated, but he found his nerve and lock eyes with Draco. “He told me he wished I wasn’t his father. I was—pretty cold to him... Practically pushed him on the Hogwarts Express. I think he may be trying to prove something.”

Cold silence flooded the room. Draco moved toward Harry, looking prepared to strike. “If anything happens to Scorpius...”

Ginny stepped in between them and said fiercely, “Don’t throw around threats, Draco, please don’t do that.”

“My son is missing!” roared Draco.

Ginny matched his roar with her own, “So is mine!”

They stared one another down as tension gripped the room. Draco’s lip curled, and Harry was reminded suddenly of Lucius Malfoy.

“If you need gold...” pleaded Draco, “Everything the Malfoy’s have... He’s my sole heir... He’s my—only family.”

“The Ministry has plenty in reserve, thank you, Draco,” said Hermione.

Draco turned to leave, but he looked back to Harry. “I don’t care what you did or who you saved, you are a constant curse on my family, Harry Potter.”

Draco left, slamming the door behind him.


	18. Under the Ministy's Nose

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 18: Under the Ministry’s Nose

Albus previously visited the Ministry of Magic only a handful of times. He was most familiar with the Atrium, which all Ministry employees and visitors entered through. The telephone box landed at the end of a long hallway bordered by fireplaces. Albus, Scorpius, and Delphi did their best to make their way through the crowd unnoticed, but wearing the faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione proved anything but inconspicuous. Several people stopped Scorpius (disguised as Harry) to wish him luck on finding his son.

They scrambled through the crowd, trying not the stir suspicion. They made their way past the fountain of Albus Dumbledore towards the elevators and waited to get one by themselves. From there, the Ministry was a complete mystery to Albus. He knew his way roughly around Level Two from visiting his dad in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but in order to reach Hermione’s office, they would need to go through Level One. 

As the lift announced their arrival at Level One, Albus felt his nerves rattle. They walked down a curved passage. To their right were sleek doors that helpfully provided information on the occupant of that office. To their left were meeting rooms, cubicles, and secretary offices. They followed the corridor, inspecting each door as they passed. Occasionally they would be greeted by a Ministry employee, but luckily everyone was too busy to stop and chat.

At the very end of the hallway, on the second-to-last door, they found a plaque that read:

**Hermione Granger-Weasley  
**Caretaker Minister for Magic

“And you’re sure it’s in there?” asked Scorpius.

“Think about it—” said Delphi. “Hermione Granger would want to keep a close eye on the Time-Turner, possibly to study. And besides, if it isn’t in here, there’s probably a file that says where it’s being kept, and we can look for it from there.”

Albus’s eyes widened as he spotted his aunt, Fleur Weasley, walking gracefully towards them from her secretary's office. Her silky blonde hair waved behind her as she approached. It took a moment for Albus to notice that she was gently embracing a stack of folders.

Scorpius’s tone suddenly shifted to sound officious, “Yes, Minister, I definitely think this is a matter for the Ministry to ponder at length, yes.”

“ _Bonjour_ , ‘Ermione. ‘Arry. Ron,” said Fleur in her songbird voice. A fuzzy feeling inside Albus overtook him; it was a unique feeling that tended only to happen when Fleur was around. Ron described this feeling as Albus fancying her. Harry described this feeling as a sort of magical magnetism Fleur was born with. Ginny described this feeling in less kind terms.

Delphi affected her performance as Hermione and said to Scorpius, “Let’s ponder it together.” She then turned to Fluer. “Oh, yes, hello... ?”

Delphi’s confused eyes darted to Albus, who came to her rescue (albeit slightly tripping over himself). “F _—_ Fleur. It’s good to see you again. How’s uncle _—_ I mean my brother Bill?”

“‘E ‘as been very busy at Gringotts,” she explained, and then turned to Delphi, holding out the files she carried. “I ‘ave ze documents on Time-Turners you ‘ave requested.”

Delphi took the documents. “Err _—_ yes, thank you, Fleur. I’ll have a look at these immediately. Good day.”

Fleur nodded, and walked back to her office. 

Albus waved Ron’s gangly arm and called out, “Bye, Fleur! See you at Christmas!”

Scorpius looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “She’s your aunt,” he said disapprovingly.

“I was just being friendly,” said Albus innocently.

“Yes, Veelas do attract a lot of ‘friends’,” joked Scorpius.

Albus grabbed the back of his neck. “She’s only _part-_ Veela.”

“Well, we might not have set Albus up on a date with his aunt,” said Delphi, “but at least we’re sure Hermione’s keeping the Time-Turner.”

But just as Delphi finished speaking in Hermione’s voice, they heard the real Hermione from around the corner, saying, “Harry... we should talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” followed Harry’s voice.

A wave of fear and panic washed over the intruders.

“Oh no,” said Delphi.

“Hermione,” whimpered Albus. “And Dad.”

Scorpius began looking around, failing to keep his cool. “Okay. Hiding places. No hiding places. Anyone know any Invisibility Charms?”

“Do we go... in her office?” suggested Delphi.

“She’ll be coming in her office,” said Albus.

“There’s nowhere else,” she replied as she grabbed the door’s handle. She jiggled it unsuccessfully, and then jiggled it some more as Hermione’s voice once again travelled down the hallway.

“If you don’t talk to me or Ginny about it...” said Hermione.

“Stand back,” said Albus, pointing his wand at the door. Delphi moved as Albus whispered, “ _Alohamora_!” Delphi tried the door again. Nothing. “Worth a shot,” he sighed.

“What is there to say?” said Harry, ever nearer.

“Err... I have an idea!” said Scorpius, pointing his wand down the hall. “ _Accio_ Key!” Hermione yelped as a key flew towards Scorpius and landed in his hand.

“Harry, did you just try to pinch my bottom?” asked Hermione.

“I don’t think so,” said Harry, confused.

Scorpius grinned as he turned the key into the lock and the door opened. He and Delphi leapt into the office just as the real Hermione and Harry came into sight.

“Albus. Block her. It has to be you,” said Scorpius, pushing Albus out as he tried to enter. The door shut and Albus ran up to Harry and Hermione.

“Surprise!!!” said Albus in Ron’s goofy voice. His heart pounded anxiously.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked.

“Does a man need an excuse to see his wife?” said Albus. Then, unsure and desperate, he kissed Hermione firmly on the mouth.

“I should go,” said Harry uncomfortably.

Hermione gave Albus a puzzled look and then turned her attention back to Harry. “Harry. My point is... whatever Draco says—the things you said to Albus... I don’t think dwelling on them is going to find him any quicker.”

An idea came to Albus. Perhaps, disguised as Harry’s best friend, he could finally have an honest conversation with his dad. “Oh, are you talking about how Harry’s an awful parent?”

“Ron!” shouted Hermione. Albus realised it would be tough to give a convincing performance as Ron to the two people who knew him best.

“He’s not wrong...” admitted Harry.

“He didn’t mean that, _did_ you, Ronald Weasley?” urged Hermione.

“No—obviously not,” said Albus. “But you shouldn’t worry, mate. Albus is probably fine. You—we sneaked around loads when we were kids, and it was all for good reasons. Maybe he has a good reason!”

“If he had a good reason, he should have told me,” said Harry with defeat in his voice.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have understood,” explained Albus, trying to sound Ron-like. “Maybe he doesn’t think you trust him.”

“That’s just it, isn't it,” moaned Harry. “He doesn’t think I trust him, he doesn’t think I’m proud of him. I’m worried sick that he’s hurt or lost and he has it in his head that he’s a disappointment.”

Albus’s heart sank. He’d never imagined how much his dad anguished over how miserable Albus was, but still Albus lashed out at him. But he knew if he told his dad that he was safe and helping Amos, Harry wouldn’t let him finish his task. Albus sighed. “He sure makes it difficult to love him, doesn’t he?”

“ _RON_!”

“He does,” laughed Harry, who then became wistful. “But boy, is it worth it. We had so much trouble trying to teach him how to ride a broom, you know that? Any time we tried to teach him, he would ask if he could ride on the back with us and hold on tight. He was always scared, but as long as he was with us, he knew he’d be safe. I still remember how he would laugh. But he was so young, then. No pressures, no expectations. I wish I knew how to bring back that laughter.”

“Like I said,” said Hermione softly, “we shouldn’t dwell on it—it doesn’t do anyone any good.” Hermione then began to skirt around Albus. “We should get going.”

“Right, sorry,” said Albus, relieved. “Bye-bye, then, darling.”

He watched Hermione and Harry walk off, hoping she would walk past her office. As soon as that appeared not to be the case, Albus ran to her and blocked her from entering. She looked at him, confused, and tried again to open the door, but Albus swung his hips to block her.

“Why are you blocking the entrance to my office?” asked Hermione.

“I’m not.” He blocked her again. “Blocking.” He blocked her yet again. Anything.”

Frustrated, Hermione put her hands to her hips and looked angrily at Albus. “You are. Let me into my room, Ron.”

In the heat of panic, Albus blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Let’s have another baby,” he demanded.

“What?” said Hermione utterly bewildered.

Albus realised his suggestion was probably too excessive and tried to dial it back. “Or if not another baby, a holiday. I want a baby or a holiday and I’m going to insist on it. Shall we talk about it later, honey?” Hermione tried again to enter her office, but this time Albus blocked her with a kiss. “Maybe with a drink in the Leaky Cauldron? Love you.”

Hermione looked him over as though she were figuring out his plot. “If there is another stink pellet in there then Merlin won’t help you,” she said. She huffed relentingly. “Fine. We’re due to update the Muggles anyway. Whatever you’ve done to my office, clean it up before I get back.”

Albus nodded obediently and waited for Hermione and Harry as they walked back down the hallway. Albus began to walk into the office, but Hermione turned around, looking puzzled.

“A baby—OR—a holiday?” she asked. “Some days you are off the scale, you know that?”

“It’s why you married me, isn’t it?” said Albus, trying to imitate Ron’s cockiness. “My puckish sense of fun.”

She shook her head, turned around and walked off again. Just as Albus thought he had finally won, she turns back around.

“I can taste fish,” she said, smacking her lips. “I told you to stay away from those fish-finger sandwiches.”

“Right you are,” said Albus with a nervous laugh.

She turned around again and he watched anxiously as she walked down the corridor. Relief flooded out of him as she did not turn around for a third time. Hurriedly, he entered the office.


	19. Hermione’s Secret Library

## Part 1 - Act 1

### Scene 19: Hermione’s Secret Library

Scorpius closed the door behind him. He could hear Albus on the other side, blocking the real Hermione and Harry as the fake Hermione and Harry searched the office. Scorpius felt like he had walked into his greatest dream. 

A large, convex window stretched across the back of the room looking out over the atrium. Hermione’s desk sat in front of it, with several piles of neatly organised papers. When Delphi sat the Time-Turner folders on the desk, they immediately folded open and the papers flew to the correct piles.

Scorpius heard Albus’s misdirection job outside. It sounded like he was snogging Hermione. A knot twisted in Scorpius’s stomach.

On the right wall was a sensible and organised bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling. There were so many books, in fact, that part of the bookshelf was built into the ceiling itself, with the spines of books upside down overhead. Part of the bookcase was inlaid into a staircase that led up to a higher level of bookshelves. The other part had an alcove with an armchair and a side table and a light perfect for reading.

Scorpius put his ear to the door as he heard Harry and Albus (using Ron’s voice) discussing Albus. He could hear Harry’s unmistakable heartbreak through the wood. When Albus told Harry how difficult it was to love him, something stirred in Scorpius—and indefinable feeling that he didn’t expect.

Delphi had to pull Scorpius’s attention to the left wall. Rows of shelves and cabinets held a number of fantastical instruments. Draco had bought Scorpius several of them, but there were many that he had never been able to procure and some he had never knew existed. He became mesmerised by a jar that contained a spell that just bounced around aimlessly.

“What an odd collection of objects,” said Delphi, looking at a glass cabinet. “Do you think the Time-Turner is in here?”

“Doubt it,” said Scorpius, looking at the cabinet himself. It was filled with seemingly useless junk with labels tied to them. “She wouldn’t put it so out in the open.”

Delphi looked them over, trying to make sense of them. “An empty beer bottle labelled _Cardiff_... A chewed dog toy labelled _Glasgow_... A tattered oven mitt labelled _Newcastle_...” She opened the cabinet, but an epiphany came to Scorpius causing him to stop her.

“Don’t touch them!” urged Scorpius, shutting the cabinet. “I think these are emergency Portkeys.” He read over the labels, looking for a destination that would benefit them. “If so, we can use this broken spyglass to take us to Dufftown. It’s not too far from Hogwarts.”

The door opened followed by Ron entering the office. Scorpius had to remind himself that this was, in fact, Albus pretending to be Ron.

“This is all too weird,” said Albus.

“You were impressive,” praised Delphi. “Good blocking action.”

“I don’t think it was strictly necessary to kiss your aunt about five hundred times,” remarked Scorpius.

“Ron’s an affectionate guy,” said Albus as Ron’s freckled neck suddenly turned bright red. “I was trying to distract her, Scorpius. I was _very_ distracting.”

Scorpius walked over and spoke to him gently. “And then there’s that stuff with your dad...”

“Boys... she will be back—we don’t have long,” said Delphi impatiently.

Albus looked at Scorpius with a pained expression. “You heard that?”

“Where would Hermione hide a Time-Turner?” Delphi pondered, though her question appeared to be answered as soon as she asked it. “Search the bookcases.” She searched the higher shelves as Albus and Scorpius continued their conversation, looking lazily over the bottom shelves.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Scorpius asked.

“There’s nothing to tell,” answered Albus stubbornly. 

Scorpius put his hand on Albus’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me, or your dad. You can’t keep bottling everything up inside, Albus.” Scorpius looked at his friend, trying almost to read his mind. Albus was hurting; he was acting recklessly and fighting with his dad, yet didn’t trust anyone enough to talk about why he was acting this way. Specifically, Albus wouldn’t talk to him, Scorpius, the friend who shared everything with him. Scorpius said, “I know things aren’t—great between me and my dad. I don’t exactly wear the Malfoy reputation well. But I know, at least, our dads don’t care about that kind of stuff.”

“You’re lucky, the way I see it,” said Albus. “You have a reputation to live down, while I have a reputation to live up to. All you have to do is not be completely evil. I can’t just magic myself into the son he deserves.”

Delphi pulled Scorpius’s arm, trying to get him to search a different part of the bookcase. “Maybe if we could concentrate on the matter at hand,” she insisted.

Scorpius ran his finger over the spines of the books, paying half-attention to what he was looking at, while continuing to talk to Albus. “My point is, there’s a reason we’re friends, Albus—a reason we found each other, you know? And whatever this—adventure—is about...” He ran his finger across a large, black book with red lettering. He looked at it with both fascination and fear. “Have you seen the books on these shelves? There are some serious books here. Banned books. Cursed books.”

“How to distract Scorpius from difficult emotional issues. Take him to a library,” joked Albus.

“All the books from the Restricted Section and then some,” said Scorpius as his curiosity took him over. “ _Magik Moste Evile. Fifteenth-Century Fiends. Sonnets of a Sorcerer_ —that’s not even allowed in Hogwarts!”

Albus’s eyes also fell curiously upon the peculiar selection of books. “ _Shadows and Spirits. The Nightshade Guide to Necromancy.”_

“They are quite something, aren’t they...” said Delphi in awe.

“ _The True History of the Opal Fire_ ,” continued Albus. “ _The Imperius Curse and How to Abuse It._ ”

“And lookee here. Whoa,” said Scorpius, astonished by a purple and gold book. “ _My Eyes and How to See Past Them_ by Sybill Trelawney. A book on Divination. Hermione Granger hates Divination. This is fascinating. This is a find...”

Scorpius pulled the book from the shelf, and as he did so, a number of books fell off the shelves and onto the floor with their pages open. The book in Scorpius’s hand wrestled itself out of his grasp and its pages began to move like a mouth as it spoke:

_The first is the fourth, a disappointing mark.  
_ _You’ll find it in parked but not in park._

“Okay. A book that talks. Bit weird,” remarked Scorpius, transfixed. Pages ripped themselves from the bindings of the fallen books and rose slowly into the air.

_The second is the less fair of those that walk on two legs.  
_ _Grubby, hairy, a disease of the egg.  
_ _And the third is both a mountain to climb and a route to take._

“It’s a riddle,” said Albus. “It’s giving us a riddle.”

_A turn in the city, a glide through a lake._

As the book finished its poem it fell to the floor. Around them, the torn pages froze in the air.

“What have you done?” asked Delphi.

“I, uh, opened a book,” said Scorpius. “Something which has—in all my years on this planet—never been a particularly dangerous activity.”

Suddenly chaos erupted. The book on the floor flew open and its pages erupted into the air like a geyser. Paper swirled around them; wrapping them, choking them, and grabbing them. A _Monster Book of Monsters_ leapt out at Albus and latched itself onto his face. He fought it loose and threw it across the room.

“What is that?” Albus asked, gasping for air.

“She’s weaponised it,” shouted Delphi, struggling to break free of the papers binding her. “She’s weaponised her library. This is where the Time-Turner will be. Solve the riddle and we’ll find it.”

“‘The first is the fourth’,” said Albus, working out the riddle aloud. “‘You’ll find it in parked, not in park,’” he repeated. “Ed—de—”

More books leapt out of the bookcase and grabbed onto Delphi. 

“‘The second is a disease of the egg, the less fair of those who walk on two legs...’” repeated Scorpius, struggling both with the pages trying to suffocate him and the meaning of the riddle.

“Men!” shouted Delphi effusively. “De-men...” she paused as she worked out the next part, “Tors! We need to find a book on Dementors.” The pages wrapping Albus and Scorpius suddenly flew over to Delphi who was losing the struggle with the library. The assailing books threw her whole body at the bookshelf as more and more books jumped out from the bookcase, grabbing her and pulling her towards it. “Albus!” she cried. The books had consumed her entirely and drew her into the bookcase itself. She had vanished. Calm fell upon the room as the bookcase bested the intruder. Pages slowly reassembled into books and books crawled back onto the shelves.

“Delphi!” Albus called back. “What’s going on?”

“Concentrate, Albus,” said Scorpius during the respite. “Do what she said. Find a book on Dementors and be very careful.”

“Here,” said Albus, pulling out a book. “ _Dominating Dementors: A True History of Azkaban.”_

Again, books fell from the shelves and their pages started to rise and the new book recited its riddle:

_I was born in a cage,  
_ _But smashed it with rage.  
_ _The Gaunt inside me,  
_ _Riddled me free,  
_ _Of that which would stop me to be._

“Voldemort,” said Albus decisively as the book fell to the floor. 

There was another explosion of chaos as the books once again came to life and attacked the boys. Scorpius dodged a cannon fire of Post-Wenlockian Arithmantic Compositions and slammed into the bookcase. He barely managed to free himself as the bookcase tried to consume him too, but he tripped and fell to the floor.

Suddenly, Delphi partially emerged from the bookcase. Only, she was no longer disguised as Hermione, but back to her silver-haired, sprite-like self. 

“Work faster!” she yelled. Albus reached out to grab her hand but the bookcase closed in on her again. She screamed as, once more, she vanished.

“Delphi!” called Albus. “Delphi!”

“She’d become herself again—did you notice?” said Scorpius, struggling to his feet as the books knocked into him.

“No!” shouted Albus over the lapping of paper. “Because I was more worried about her being eaten by a bookcase! Find. Something. Anything on him.” Frantically the two searched the bookcases. Albus found a silver book with a green snake embroidered on the spine. “ _The Heir of Slytherin?_ Do you think?” he asked. He pulled the book from the shelf, but it pulled back. The papers and books overpowered him and a moment later had disappeared too.

“Albus?” said Scorpius as the bookcase began to settle, satisfied with its fresh victim. “Albus!!” _The Heir of Slytherin_ nestled itself back into position, and Scorpius looked at it warily. “Okay. Not that.” He started searching the bookcase again. 

“Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort,” he repeated as he summoned everything he could remember about Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, or Tom Marvolo Riddle. He ran his finger across the spine of a book by Rita Skeeter. “ _Marvolo: The Truth_ , this must be...”

He pulled it open and it recited its own riddle:

_I am the creature you have not seen.  
_ _I am you. I am me. The echo unforeseen._  
_Sometimes in front, sometimes behind,  
_ _A constant companion, for we are entwined._

There was a moment of peace followed immediately by unbridled pandemonium. Albus struggled to poke his transfigured head and torso through the bookcase.

“Albus...” Scorpius reached out to grab him, but Albus wouldn’t let him.

“No,” said Albus, slowly being pulled back in. “Just—THIIIIIIINK.” And he disappeared once more.

“But I can’t...” said Scorpius, defeated. “An invisible echo, what is that? The only thing I’m good at is thinking and when I need to think—I can’t.” The constant barrage of books made the riddle more and more difficult to solve. Growing weaker, he became overwhelmed by the books and fell to the floor. The bewitched pages encased him as the books whacked him. Soon, he was spun into a tight cocoon and slowly being drawn into the bookshelf.

With difficulty, Scorpius struggled to breathe. With greater difficulty, Scorpius struggled to get a grip on his wand. Then, with a _BANG_ the books blasted away from him by a brilliant yellow light. “No! You don’t!” he cried as the books once again tried to beat him down. _My Eyes and How to See Past Them_ slapped him in the face. He shot a powerful spell at the book and it flew away and burned to ash before it had a chance to hit the floor. “Sybill Trelawney. No!!!!”

He blasted pages aside as he once again perused the bookcases. Infuriated by this impossible task, he called out, “This is all wrong. Albus? Can you hear me? All this for a frigging Time-Turner.” He tried his best to remember the riddle. “Think, Scorpius. Think. A constant companion. Sometimes behind. Sometimes out in front.” He made a double take as he read the title of a book on the ceiling. A realisation came to him as though it was stupid of him not to have thought of it immediately. “Hang on. I’ve missed it. Shadow. You’re a shadow. _Shadows and Spirits._ It must be...” He climbed up the staircase and had to climb the shelf itself in order to reach the book. All the while, books grabbed at him trying to pull him in, but his hand was too occupied trying to climb to defend himself.

Scorpius stretched Harry’s long arm out as far as it could reach as he leaned backwards from the shelf to grab the book from the ceiling. “Is that—” His arm started to shrink. The Polyjuice potion began to wear off. Scorpius made a jump and his fingers gripped the spine of the book.

Immediately, the chaos ceased. Books and pages fell to the ground, as did Scorpius, clutching tightly to _Shadows and Spirits_. Books tumbled from the bookcase as Albus and Delphi reemerged to safety.

“We beat it,” celebrated Scorpius, catching his breath. He was back to his pale, scrawny self. “We beat the library.”

Albus looked to Delphi. “Delphi, are you... ?”

“Wow,” she said, brushing herself off. “Quite a ride.”

Albus reached out a hand to help Scorpius up off the floor. His eyes were drawn to the book Scorpius held against his chest. “Is that? Scorpius? What’s inside that book?”

“I think we should find out, don’t you?” Delphi asked.

Scorpius held out the book and folded it open. The Time-Turner rose from the pages, spinning seductively.

Scorpius briefly forgot all the danger they had put themselves in as he gazed upon his reward. He said, “We’ve found the Time-Turner—I never thought we’d get this far.”

“Mate, now we’ve got this, the next stop is finding Cedric,” said Albus excitedly. “Our journey has only just begun.”

“Only just begun and it’s almost half killed us,” laughed Scorpius. But with the Time-Turner now in their possession, Albus’s ridiculous plan suddenly seemed significantly less ridiculous and more likely to pan out. Scorpius looked warmly at his friend, and a fire ignited in his belly. Inexplicably, every danger, every impossible task suddenly seemed minuscule. Scorpius welcomed whatever adventures awaited them so long as Albus was with him. He smiled and said, “Good. This is going to be good.”


	20. The Cupboard Under the Stairs

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 1: The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Harry had this dream before. His ten-year-old self woke suddenly as green lightning clashed outside. He sat in his makeshift bed in the cupboard underneath the Dursley’s staircase.

Aunt Petunia rapped violently at the door. Her voice called from outside the door, “Harry. Harry. These pots aren’t clean.” She then roared, “THESE POTS ARE A DISGRACE. HARRY POTTER. Wake up.”

Harry unlatched the door and it immediately swung open. Aunt Petunia crept into the cupboard and hunched over, her gaunt face bearing down on Harry. 

“Aunt Petunia,” said young Harry. “What time is it?”

“Time enough,” she responded curtly, waving a cast-iron pot around the cupboard. “You know, when we agreed to take you in, we thought we could improve you—build you—turn you into a decent human being. So I suppose it’s only ourselves we’ve got to blame that you’ve turned out... such a limp disappointment.”

“I try—” started Harry, but Aunt Petunia interrupted him.

“Trying is not succeeding though, is it? There are grease smears on the glasses. There are scuff marks on the pots. Now get up and go to the kitchen and get scrubbing.”

Harry scrambled out of bed, revealing an unmistakable wet streak running down his trousers.

“Oh no,” groaned Aunt Petunia with disgust and anger. “Oh no. What have you done? You’ve wet the bed, again.” She pulled back his covers, revealing a wet patch. “This is very unacceptable.”

“I’m—sorry,” said Harry humiliated. “I think I was having a nightmare.”

“You disgusting boy. Only animals wet themselves. Animals and disgusting little boys.”

“It was about my mum and dad,” explained Harry. “I think I saw them—I think I saw them—die?”

“And why would I have the slightest bit of interest in that?” dismissed Aunt Petunia with contempt in her voice.

“There was a man,” recalled Harry, “shouting _Adkava Ad_ -something _Acabra_ — _Ad_ —” Green lightning clashed again causing Harry to jump. “And the noise of a snake hissing. I could hear my mum scream.”

Aunt Petunia took a moment to reset herself. “If you were really reliving their death,” she lied as if it came as easily to her as breathing, “all you’d hear would be a screech of brakes and a horrific thud. Your parents died in a car accident. You know that. I don’t think your mother had even time to scream. Lord spare you the details more than that. Now strip those sheets, get in the kitchen, and get scrubbing. I don’t want to have to tell you again.” She stormed out and slammed the door violently. Nervously, Harry opened the door to the cupboard and stepped out. 

He was no longer in the Dursleys’ house. He was no longer his young self, in fact, he was no longer his old self either. He was surrounded by trees with twisted roots and falling foliage. This forest seemed familiar and foreign to him at the same time. Just as well, the feet that walked through the forest did not belong to him, neither did the eyes he observed it through.

Out ahead of him he saw the back of Albus’s head. Albus turned around, looking urgent. Curiously, he wore furry, red robes that Harry recognised as being the uniform of the Durmstrang Institute of Magic. Albus spoke, “I don’t think we have any time to waste, Scorpius. There are people searching for us. We need to get this over with and finished in one go.”

Parseltongue whispers flooded his mind, blocking out all noise. _He’s coming_ , they said. _He’s coming._

Then the icy voice of Lord Voldemort crept in his thoughts. _Haaarry Pottttter._


	21. Revelation of the Legilimens

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 2: Revelation of the Legilimens

Harry awoke with a start. He hadn’t even made it to the top of the staircase before passing out. This was his first time home in many sleepless days. He spent all his hours overcome with grief and guilt searching for Albus. And now, as he pieced together his dream, he may have found him after all.

“ _Lumos_ ,” cast Harry, followed by a light emitting from his wand.

Ginny walked in, surprised to see Harry sitting on the stairs with his wand alight. “Okay... ?” she said, worried.

“I was sleeping,” Harry explained.

“You were,” said Ginny, joining him on the staircase.

“You weren’t,” Harry pointed out. Ginny rubbed his back. Harry noticed that he was fidgety. Voldemort’s memory still chilled his nerves. “Any—news? Any owls or... ?” 

“None,” she answered bleakly.

“I was dreaming—” recalled Harry with tentative excitement, “I was under the stairs and then I—I heard him—Voldemort—so clearly.”

“Voldemort?” asked Ginny with a shudder.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember the last part of the dream. Only, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt familiar, somehow. Something he hadn’t experienced in many years.

“And then I saw—Albus. In red—he was wearing Durmstrang robes.”

“Durmstrang robes?” asked Ginny perplexed.

Harry did his best to recall every detail of his confusing dream. He considered the mysterious forest. That forest seemed awfully familiar... He jumped to his feet as he realised why. “Ginny, I think I know where he is...”


	22. The Search Party Assembles

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 3: The Search Party Assembles

Harry and Ginny stood in Professor McGonagall's office, peering over a table. Harry had been here before on a number of occasions when it belonged to Professor Dumbledore, and it had been a remarkably different sight then. McGonagall kept the Headmaster’s office neatly organised in a way that reminded Harry of Hermione’s office at the Ministry. A lit fireplace warmed the room from the back. Shelves full of books and trinkets lined the walls next to the entrance, and above them were numerous portraits of previous Headmasters, all pretending to sleep. This included a portrait of Albus Dumbledore, but Dumbledore’s likeness was missing, leaving only a portrait of an empty chair.

Harry sprawled out the Marauder's Map over the table, trying to spot Albus and Scorpius’s names. Unfortunately, as detailed and accurate the map was as a representation of Hogwarts, it only extended as far as the Whomping Willow in the Forbidden Forest.

“And we don’t know where in the Forbidden Forest?” McGonagall asked.

“I haven’t had a dream like it for years, not since Voldemort used Legilimancy to trespass in my head,” Harry explained. “But Albus was there, I know he is.”

“We need to get searching as quickly as possible,” insisted Ginny, who was fed up staring at the empty map. She walked over to the window and looked over the forest.

“I can give you Professor Longbottom—” offered McGonagall, “his knowledge of plants might be useful—and—”

The chimney began to rumble as the fire turned violent green. Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace. “Is it true,” she asked urgently. “Can I help?”

“Minister—this is quite unexpected...” said McGonagall.

Ginny walked over to Hermione and greeted her with a hug. Ginny explained, “That may be my fault—I persuaded them to put out an emergency edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Asking for volunteers.”

“Right. Very sensible,” agreed McGonagall. “I expect... there will be quite a few.”

The fireplace roared again and Ron emerged. He was covered in soot and tracking it through the office (to McGonagall’s annoyance). “Have I missed anything—I couldn’t work out which Floo to travel to. Ended up in the kitchen somehow.” He tugged off a gravy-stained dinner napkin and stuffed it in his pocket as Hermione glared at him in disbelief. “What?” he asked innocently. 

Suddenly there was another rumble in the chimney and this time Draco fell out of the fireplace. He got to his feet as all the eyes in the room met him, each filled with surprise. “Sorry about your floor, Minerva,” he said, brushing the soot off himself.

“I dare say it’s my fault for owning a chimney,” quipped McGonagall.

“Quite a surprise to see you, Draco,” said Harry. “I thought you didn’t believe in my dreams.”

“I don’t,” he said shortly, “but I do trust your luck. Harry Potter is always where the actions is at. And I need my son back with me and safe.”

“Then let’s get to the Forbidden Forest and find them both,” said Ginny.

Ginny waited for no one, and walked right out of the door. The rest of the group followed behind her, marching through the castle and out onto the grounds. They spread out, each covering a different section of the forest. Ginny was the only person to search on broomstick, as the trees were too thick from the top to get a thorough survey the forest.

Together, they commenced their search, hoping to find the boys before the boys found the dangers that lurk in the Forbidden Forest.


	23. The Scorpion, the Spare, and the Squib

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 4: The Scorpion, the Spare, and the Squib

Albus held out his wand confidently. Delphi stared him down holding a crude twig.

Albus shouted, “ _Expelliarmus_!” and the twig leapt out of Delphi’s hand and flew over to Albus who caught it with his free hand. He beamed with pride.

They stood together at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Scorpius went ahead to scout out a path through to the castle. Delphi offered to help Albus practise some spells they might need, and the results surprised even himself.

“You’re getting it now. You’re good at this,” encouraged Delphi. She walked to him and took back the twig. She affected a posh accent and said playfully, “‘You’re a positively disarming young man.’” They laughed, and Albus turned a subtle shade of pink. She said in her natural voice, “I don’t know why you complain about not being any good at spells. You’re picking this up pretty quickly. Now try the Shield Charm.”

She walked several paces ahead of him. Albus raised his wand and shouted, “ _Protego_!” A transparent blue barrier of light emerged from his wand. Delphi threw the twig at him, but it bounced off the shield.

“Nice one! See—you’re a natural.” Delphi walked over to him again and the two high-fived. 

“I guess I never had much confidence before,” admitted Albus. 

Scorpius returned but paused under the shadow of a tree to watch the two training. Part of him felt happy for Albus that he had found another friend, and she even helped him get better at his spellcasting. Another part, a secret part, didn’t at all like the attention he was giving her, or the way he looked at her, or how she was able bring out in him that skills and confidence that Scorpius couldn’t despite his best efforts.

Albus twirled the twig in his hand curiously. “How come you haven’t got a wand?” he asked.

Delphi blushed. “Oh, well... I can’t actually do magic.”

“You’re a squib?!” asked Albus, so surprised that he forgot all tact.

“Yep,” said Delphi, trying to not make it sound like a big deal. “Families tend to keep squibs hushed up, but Uncle Amos has always been good to me.”

“Funny how it takes a squib to make me better at magic,” he half-joked. He looked to her earnestly. “I hope you’ll stick around so you can, you know... teach me more...”

“Of course I’m sticking around, we’re friends, aren’t we?” asked Delphi.

“Yes. Yes,” insisted Albus. “Definitely friends. Definitely.”

Delphi smiled wide. “Great. Wizzo!”

“What’s wizzo?” asked Scorpius, who decided to stop watching and join them.

“Delphi’s been helping me work on some spells,” explained Albus. “I mean, they’re pretty basic, but I was—well, I cracked them.”

“And I’ve found our way through to the school,” said Scorpius in a singsong voice, trying to be a part of the fun. “Listen, are we sure this will work...”

“Yes!” said Delphi excitedly. She pulled out a roll of parchments from her bag and looked them over. “I’ve been reading Hermione’s notes on the Time-Turner. According to her, it should be possible to travel far further backwards than the standard maximum five hours of the Time-Turners it was constructed from. However, the farther back we go, the more unpredictable the exact time we’ll end up will be.”

Albus nodded, his excitement overcoming him now that the plan was finally coming into action. “So all we need to do is make sure we end up during Cedric’s time at Hogwarts. We’ll be most likely to run into him while he’s at school.”

“Right,” agreed Delphi, adding, “and I think we can even catch him during his final year, when he’s competing in the Triwizard Tournament. I remember everyone stayed over Christmas break for the Yule Ball that year, too. All we have to do is find him and deliver the letter. Hogwarts is a big place, though. I just hope we can run into him when he’s not in class or the dormitory or the bathroom.”

“I just hope we don’t run into any teachers,” said Scorpius, trying desperately not to sound like a wet blanket, but at the same time being a voice of reason. “They’d probably notice three students walking around that they’ve never seen before.”

Delphi started searching her bag. “That’s why I brought _these._ Ta-da!” She pulled out three paper bags and handed one to Albus and Scorpius each. All three pulled out a set of immaculate crimson Durmstrang robes from the bags. “Another benefit to going during the Triwizard Tournament—there are two other schools competing in the Tournament. If we’re in Durmstrang robes, there’s less of a chance people are going to question us being there. It was my uncle’s idea.”

Scorpius dressed in his robes as Albus held out his robes looking puzzled; the robes he had clearly belong to a woman. Albus smirked and said to Delphi, “As nicely as I’m sure these robes would bring out my curves, I think these are yours.”

Delphi held out her robes and said, “Oops! I’ll trade ya. Though I’m certain you could pull it off.”

They laughed as they traded garments, but Scorpius wasn’t enjoying the Delphi-Albus double act. “Well, you’ve been pretty thorough,” Scorpius said bitterly. “And you’re sure we’ll be able to return back afterwards?”

“Theoretically,” replied Delphi, motioning Scorpius over to help her fasten her robes. Scorpius complied. “Her notes mention that it was designed for return trips, but she hasn’t put it to practise. So whatever happens once we actually use the Time-Turner will be a complete mystery.”

“A complete mystery—which is exciting,” admitted Scorpius. He then proposed sensibly, “But maybe we should just—try going back an hour, say, first and then...”

“I don’t think we have any time to waste, Scorpius,” Albus told him, turning around fully dressed in his Durmstrang uniform. “There are people searching for us. We need to get this over with and finished in one go.”

“If you two are satisfied,” said Delphi as she packed her bag, “let’s get a move on. I want to get closer to the school before we go.”

Albus looked to Scorpius. Scorpius hesitantly nodded.

“Let’s do this,” Albus decided.

The three brushed past trees and bushes and they entered the Forbidden Forest, ready for adventure.


	24. What the Stars Forewarned

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 5: What the Stars Forewarned

Harry bolted through the trees as limbs whipped past him. A beam of light lit his path from the tip of his outstretched wand. Occasionally he would hurdle over overturned trees or large rocks, but he continued onward with fierce determination. The calls of Ginny, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Neville and other volunteers scattered throughout the forest, but eventually Harry ventured so deep into the Forbidden Forest, he could hear only his own cries echoing through the trees.

“Albus? Scorpius? Albus?” he called out, but with no response.

When he saw movement in the bushes he would cast detection charms, but he only found the creatures inhabiting the forest. Many dangers lurked in the forest, and Harry doubted Albus would be able to contend with them. The trees began to move closer together, but he weaved through them. The plants became more violent, but Harry battled them. The terrain became steeper, but he trudged down it. He hit a wet patch of mud and slipped, fell, and slid face first down a steep slope. He tried to catch himself on branches and rocks, but he continued sliding until he landed in a clearing on level ground.

As he got to his feet and cleaned himself off, he noticed he wasn’t alone in this clearing. He heard the clopping of hooves before he saw him: Bane, a magnificent, black-furred centaur. Harry watched the centaur carefully, making a strategic decision to sheath his wand so that the clearing was lit only by moonlight.

“Harry Potter,” greeted Bane, slightly south of indifferently.

“Good,” said Harry, taking his greeting to mean he would not instigate an attack. “You still recognise me, Bane.”

“You’ve grown older,” remarked Bane.

“I have,” agreed Harry. 

“But not wiser,” Bane said shortly. “For you trespass on our land.”

Harry thought, perhaps foolishly, that he might be able to convince Bane to aid him in his search. “I have always respected the centaurs. We are not enemies. You fought bravely at the Battle of Hogwarts. And I fought beside you.”

“I did my part. But for my herd, and our honour. Not for you.” Bane’s tone did not sound angry or threatening, only a statement of fact. “And after the battle, the forest was deemed centaur land. And if you’re on our land—without permission—then you are our enemy.”

“My son is missing, Bane,” explained Harry with urgency. “I need help finding him.”

“And he is here? In our forest?”

“Yes.”

“Then he is as foolish as you are.” Bane turned his back to Harry, and looked upwards at the clear night sky.

“Can you help me, Bane?” Harry pleaded.

Silence lingered in the trees as Bane observed the stars for a moment. He turned and looked down at Harry imperiously. “I can only tell you what I know... but I tell you not for your benefit but for the benefit of my herd. The centaurs do not need another war.”

“Neither do we!” agreed Harry. “What do you know?”

Bane turned his attention back towards the sky. “I have seen your son, Harry Potter. Seen him in the movement of the stars.”

“You’ve seen him in the stars?” asked Harry. He looked up to try and read the stars. He wished desperately that he had paid more attention in Divination.

“I can’t tell you where he is,” Bane explained. “I can’t tell you how you’ll find him.”

“But you’ve seen something? You’ve divined something?” Harry asked, giving up his own attempt at divining any information out of the sky.

“There is a black cloud around your son, a dangerous black cloud,” said Bane ominously.

“Around Albus?” repeated Harry as his stomach turned with fear.

“A black cloud that may endanger us all. He dwells in the shadow of an unforeseen danger. You’ll find your son again, Harry Potter. But then you could lose him forever.”

Bane neighed dramatically, and then galloped through the trees, leaving Harry alone with the stars in the clearing. Harry sprinted onwards with fervour; a new sense of purpose drove him. He didn’t understand prophecy as much as a centaur, but he did understand that Albus was in danger. Something or someone close to him was trying to hurt him. 

“Albus!” he yelled. “Albus!”


	25. Outside Looking In

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 6: Outside Looking In

Scorpius, Albus, and Delphi rounded a corner, their Durmstrang uniforms swishing as they walked. The trees opened up, revealing an unobscured view of Hogwarts Castle, high on a cliff, with the lights in the windows flickering like stars. Delphi was clearly awestruck, and Albus and Scorpius each were taken in by its grand beauty once more.

“And there it is...” declared Scorpius.

“It’s beautiful...” swooned Delphi.

“Hogwarts,” said Albus. “Never seen this view of it before.”

“Still get a tingle, don’t you? When you see it?” asked Scorpius. They stood staring at it in wonder for a long moment. Scorpius relished it. “From the moment I first heard of it, I was desperate to go. I mean, Dad didn’t much like it there but even the way he described it... From the age of ten I’d check the _Daily Prophet_ first thing every morning—certain some sort of tragedy would have befallen it—certain I wouldn’t get to go.”

“And then you got there and it turned out to be terrible after all,” said Albus glumly.

“Not for me,” said Scorpius, looking to Albus with a soft smile before returning his gaze to the castle. “All I ever wanted to do was go to Hogwarts and have a mate to get up to mayhem with. Just like Harry Potter. And I got his son. How crazily fortunate is that?”

“But I’m nothing like my dad,” said Albus.

“You’re better. You’re my best friend, Albus. And this is mayhem to the nth degree.” Scorpius spread his arms wide in the air with reckless abandon, then slowly retreated back into his usual timid posture. “Which is great, thumbs-up great, it’s just—I have got to say—I don’t mind admitting—I am a tiny bit— just a tiny bit scared.”

Albus looked to Scorpius with a smile. “You’re my best friend too. And don’t worry—I have a good feeling about this.”

Ron’s voice cut through the trees. “Albus?” he called. “Scorpius?”

Fear paralysed them for a brief second. Delphi huddled them together and spoke urgently in a half-whisper. “I don’t think we have any time for more of this ooey-gooey stuff—we’ve got to go—now.” She held out the Time-Turner and the boys each grabbed one of her shoulders. She placed her free hand onto the face of the Time-Turner.

Nothing happened.

“It didn’t work!” she moaned, frustrated.

“Maybe only wizards can use it?” suggested Albus.

Ron’s movement in the rustling foliage could be heard from somewhere nearby, drawing ever closer.

“Let me try,” offered Scorpius. He took the Time-Turner into his hand. He closed his eyes and filled his mind with thoughts about the Triwizard Tournament, then tried to push his thoughts into his hand as he pressed down on the Time-Turner.

There was a click, followed by a mechanical whirring. Light pulsed out from the Time-Turner as the world started to move around them. They watched shadows of themselves moving backwards in time, slowly retreating into the forest. And then the movement sped up. Night turned to day and then night again before their eyes. Creatures passed in front of them so quickly that they were barely recognisable as anything other than a blur. They even caught a brief glimpse of the Battle of Hogwarts. As time moved faster and faster, pressure pushed in on them from all directions and they struggled to stay standing. Days passed so quickly that the flashing of light became bothersome and they had to cover their eyes.

The pressure lifted at once and they tumbled forward. Cheering boomed from in the distance as they got their bearings. Once the dizziness subsided, they saw a large stadium standing in the Forbidden Forest ahead of them. They looked to one another and made their way toward it. Once they entered the stadium, they found themselves surrounded by a crowd of cheering students facing a pit housing four fearsome-looking dragons kept in cages.

They were certain that they had returned to Harry’s fourth year, as they were bearing witness to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.


	26. The Dragon Pit Revisited

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 7: The Dragon Pit Revisited

“Ladies and gentlemen—boys and girls—I give you—the greatest—the fabulous—the one—and the only TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT.”

Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports and self-acclaimed “Greatest Showman on Earth” stood on a stage on the opposite side of the stadium. He stood broad shouldered, fair haired, and pointing his wand to his throat so that he could amplify his deep voice over the excited crowd using a Sonorus Charm.

“If you’re from Hogwarts. Give me a cheer,” Ludo instructed. Hogwarts students all around the stadium cheered loudly. “If you’re from Durmstrang—give me a cheer.” Students dressed in the same robes as Albus, Scorpius, and Delphi all began cheering and stopping their feet against the wooden stands. “AND IF YOU’RE FROM BEAUXBATONS GIVE ME A CHEER.” Students dressed in blue robes gave a tepid, tasteful whirr of support. “Slightly less enthusiastic from the French there.”

Albus beamed. It felt like the Time-Turner wanted to throw them a celebration. Not only had he found Cedric like he promised Amos he would do, he would get to see him fight a dragon. Surely enough, Albus saw a younger and more cheery Amos standing near the judge’s stage.

“This has worked,” said Scorpius jubilantly. “That’s Ludo Bagman.”

Delphi didn’t share his excitement. “No... this is too early... This is the start of the first task!”

“Well, at least we won’t have to look for him—he’s right here!” Albus pointed out.

“I think we should go back—try again,” suggested Delphi, looking nervous. “I think the letter would mean more when Cedric’s closer to... you know...”

“No way!” Scorpius insisted. “We can have a show while we wait!”

“We can watch my dad in action!” said Albus as the four champions walked up to the stage.

“And there you are,” announced Bagman. “Ladies and gentlemen—boys and girls—I present to you—the reason why we’re all here—THE CHAMPIONS.” Bagman walked over to the muscular Durmstrang champion and raised his arm. “Representing Durmstrang, what eyebrows, what a gait, what a boy, there’s nothing he won’t try on a broomstick, it’s Viktor _Krrrrrrazy_ Krum.”

Durmstrang students began chanting and Albus and Scorpius joined in the fun. “Go, go, Krazy Krum. Go, go, Krazy Krum.”

Bagman walked over to a beautiful blonde champion and raised her arm (which she reluctantly consented to). “From the Beauxbatons Academy— _zut alors_ , it’s Fleur Delacour!”

The Beauxbatons students issued a polite applause.

“It’s aunt Fleur!” Albus noted excitedly.

Scorpius gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t get any ideas,” he mocked.

Bagman stood between Harry and Cedric then raised Cedric’s hand first. “And from Hogwarts not one but two students, he makes us all go weaky at the kneesy, he’s Cedric _De_ licious Diggory!” The crowd went wild with an abundance of particularly high-pitched cheers. Bagman raised Harry’s hand. “And then the other—you know him as the Boy Who Lived, I know him as the boy who keeps surprising us all...”

Albus became suddenly overwhelmed with pride seeing his fourteen-year-old father standing anxiously on stage as he prepared to fight a dragon—one of the many exciting stories Albus had heard about Harry but never witnessed. “That’s my dad.”

“Yes, it’s Harry Plucky Pottttttttter,” Bagman shouted.

The stadium burst out in applause, but to a noticeably more lacklustre reception than to Cedric. Albus resisted the urge to join in the clapping.

“And now—silence please, all,” said Bagman with suspenseful gravitas as the champions exited the stage. “The—first—task. Retrieving a golden egg. From a nest of—ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you—DRAGONS. And guiding the dragons—CHARLIE WEASLEY.”

Albus’s uncle Charlie walked out into the pit with a group of tamers as the crowd cheered them. They carefully released a silvery blue dragon into the pit and it immediately rushed to the centre to guard a nest of eggs, one of which shone with a metallic gold coating.

The boys looked at it with awe. Scorpius moved closer to get a better look and accidentally bumped into a girl in front of him. She turned around, and Albus was taken aback by how eerily she resembled Rose, and realised that he was looking at Rose’s very own mother, Hermione Granger, at age 14.

“If you’re going to stand so close I’d rather you didn’t breathe on me quite so much,” she said irritably. 

“Rose? What are you doing here?” asked Scorpius without thinking.

“Who’s Rose?” asked the young Hermione, confused. “And what’s happened to your accent?

Albus nervously grabbed Scorpius by the shoulders and walked him away. He put on an accent as he apologised, but it mainly sounded like he was speaking with his mouth full. “Sorry. Hermione. He’s got you mixed up with someone else.”

“How do you know my name?” she asked, but her attention was immediately captured by the roar of the dragon.

Bagman resumed his bombastic showmanship. “And with no time to lose let’s bring out our first champion—facing a Swedish Short-Snout, I give you—CEDRIC DIGGORY.” Cedric exited the champions’ tent looking apprehensive as he faced the dragon. “And Cedric Diggory has entered the stage. And he seems ready. Scared, but ready. He dodges this way. He dodges that. The girls swoon as he dives for cover. They cry as one: Don’t damage our Diggory, Mr. Dragon!”

Cedric darted around the stadium as the dragon lunged at him, batted at him with its tail, and breathed fire in his direction. Artfully, Cedric managed to avoid its attacks with a little agility and a lot of magic.

Delphi grabbed Albus and Scorpius and held out the Time-Turner. “Boys, something is going wrong,” she fretted. “The Time-Turner, it’s shaking.”

The Time-Turner wobbled around in her hand as an incessant, dangerous ticking emanated from it. Scorpius took it into his own hands and examined it.

Bagman’s commentating continued. “And Cedric skirts left and he dives right—”

“Albus, I think the Time-Turner—I think it’s pulling us back!” warned Scorpius. “We don’t have long!” Curiously, Delphi started to strip off her Durmstrang robes and tucking them back in her bag. Scorpius raised his eyebrow at her. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want to get caught in these when we get back,” she explained.

The ticking grew louder still. Delphi held onto Scorpius, preparing to return. Albus walked closer to the ring of the pit, trying to form a plan. There wasn’t a way to get Amos’s letter to Cedric. They didn’t have enough time. What good was going through all the trouble of getting the Time-Turner and travelling to the past if nothing was to come of it?

Cedric managed to hide behind a pile of rocks from the dragon. Bagman narrated, “Cedric readies his wand—what has this young, brave, handsome man got up his sleevies now—”

A thought came to Albus. Not just a thought, but a memory of something Amos had said. “I have an idea!” he said, and pointed his wand at Cedric. “ _Expelliarmus_!” Cedric’s wand flew from his hand and toward Albus, who caught it.

“—but no, what’s this? His wand is flying away—Cedric Diggory is Disarmed!” Commotion erupted from the stands following Bagman’s commentary. Dumbledore stepped forth from the judge’s stage and signaled to Charlie. Nearby, Hermione looked angrily at Albus, who wielded Cedric’s wand triumphantly. Bagman commentated over the chaos, “Dumbledore is calling in the dragon tamers—someone in the audience has interfered with the task. Diggory’s challenge shall be postponed as we investigate.”

Scorpius grabbed onto Albus’s shoulder as the Time-Turner vibrated violently. There was a crescendo in the ticking and then a wave of light burst from it. They move back through time, but this time all at once as though they had reached the limit of their tether and it snapped them back. Years passed by in seconds. Albus felt himself being jerked backwards by the shoulder, followed by a searing pain. He tried to scream, but he himself was so out of sync with time that he could feel the scream moving slowly from his throat to his mouth. Once they had landed in their own time, however, he had no problem screaming.

“Albus!” called Scorpius. “Did it hurt you? Albus, are you—”

“My arm! I think it’s broken!” cried Albus, trying to compose himself. “What happened to the Time-Turner?”

Delphi looked at the Time-Turner, pondering. “There must be some limit—the Time-Turner must have some kind of _time_ limit...”

“Why did you disarm him?” Scorpius asked, looking at Cedric’s wand.

“Amos said he never got Cedric’s wand when he died,” said Albus, gritting through the pain. He handed the wand to Delphi. “I thought—if we couldn’t deliver the letter—this would be good enough for some closure.”

Delphi accepted the wand, but looked at it doubtfully. “I’ll take it back to him, but Albus, I really think we should try again—take the letter to him.”

A rustling in the trees distracted Scorpius. “Someone’s coming!”

“Over here! I’ve found them! Hurry! Albus is hurt!” cried out Delphi. Scorpius looked at her, shocked. “Just go with it,” she told him.

A jet of red light shot up from the canopy, exploding into sparks. Ron appeared from its source, only he looked markedly different. His hair had been neatly combed and parted to the side, his robes were more staid, and his posture was more poised.

“I thought I heard someone out here,” he said.

From all angles, Harry, Ginny, and Draco emerged from the trees. Scorpius quickly tucked away the Time-Turner.

Albus stared blankly at his parents as the pain became more unbearable and he began to grow dizzy. “Hello, Dad,” said Albus as casually as though his parents had walked in on a tea party. “Is something wrong?”

Harry looked down on him in disbelief. “Yes,” he said shortly. “You could say that.”

Light faded in and out of Albus’s eyes as the pain continued to torment him. His eyesight drifted from his dad to the night sky. Albus fell backwards, and the last sight he saw before the darkness consumed him was his mum and dad rushing over to help.


	27. Paint and Memory

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 8: Paint and Memory

Harry sat beside Albus’s hospital bed, combing his fingers through his son’s hair. Albus’s stomach rose and fell softly as his bandaged arm rested on top of it. It took Ginny falling over in her chair for Harry to convince her to return home and get some rest. Harry felt a sense of responsibility to spend this time alone with his son. He had, after all, spent many nights being treated in this very bed during his time at Hogwarts. He thought he would be proud to have a child that inherited his sense of adventure and bravery in the face of danger. But seeing Albus asleep in the Hospital Wing only made Harry realise how fragile and young Albus was, and how it was his fatherly duty to protect him from danger.

Harry rubbed his weary eyes and started to pace around the room. He stretched out his back and noticed a portrait that he usually found empty to be suddenly occupied. A concerned, kindly old man with a flowing white beard in the painting locked his bespectacled eyes with Harry. The man looked startled to have been spotted, and Harry looked just as startled to have spotted him.

“Professor Dumbledore,” greeted Harry.

“Good evening, Harry,” said Dumbledore, nodding his head in his frame.

“I’ve missed you,” admitted Harry. “Whenever I’ve dropped in on the headmistress lately, your frame’s been empty.”

“Ah, well, I do like to pop into my other portraits now and then,” said Dumbledore, almost convincingly. He looks down at young Albus, still asleep. “Will he be all right?”

“He’s been out twenty-four hours, mostly in order so Madam Pomfrey could reset his arm. She said it was the strangest thing, it’s like it was broken twenty years ago and allowed to set in the ‘most contrary’ of directions. She says he’ll be fine.”

“A difficult thing, I imagine, to watch your child in pain,” said Dumbledore sympathetically. 

Harry shared a knowing glance with Dumbledore, then looked back at his son. “I’ve never asked how you felt about me naming him after you, have I?”

“Candidly, Harry, it seems a great weight to place upon the poor boy.”

In his effort to memorialise the people who had fought and died to protect him, Harry didn’t consider that naming a son after Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape would place an undue amount of pressure on him from the outset. Ginny knew it would, of course, and warned Harry against it. Harry eventually convinced her that Snape and Dumbledore had no family of their own left to memorialise their sacrifices. As Harry looked down at his hurting son, he realised they were right.

“I need your help,” said Harry. “I need your advice. Bane says Albus is in danger. How do I protect my son, Dumbledore?”

“You ask me, of all people, how to protect a boy in terrible danger?” asked Dumbledore as he looked to Harry sorrowfully. “We cannot protect the young from harm. Pain must and will come.”

“So I’m suppose to stand and watch?” Harry didn’t like feeling helpless—feeling unable to protect someone, let alone his own child. It was a foreign feeling and completely unconscionable.

“No,” said Dumbledore. He rested his hand on the canvas of the picture, as if trying to reach out to Harry. “You’re suppose to teach him how to meet life.”

“How? He won’t listen.” Harry sat on the end of Albus’s bed and held his son’s unharmed hand.

“Perhaps he’s waiting for you to see him clearly,” said Dumbledore.

Harry frowned, looking to Albus as he tried to process Dumbledore’s advice. Harry knew Albus struggled with magic. He understood the other children teased him for not being like Harry. But what was he missing? What couldn’t he see? Harry wished he could see Albus the way Ginny could. _You can be honest with him, Harry... That’s all he needs. He wants to see the real you_. 

Dumbledore continued softly, “It is a portrait’s curse and blessing to... hear things. At the school, at the Ministry, I hear people talking...”

“And what is the gossip about me and my son?” asked Harry dismissively.

“Not gossip,” corrected Dumbledore. “Concern. That you two are struggling. That he’s difficult. That he is angry with you. I have formed the impression that—perhaps—you are blinded by your love for him.”

“Blinded?”

“You must see him as he is, Harry,” Dumbledore continued sagely, as though to give Harry the answer outright would undermine the importance of Harry finding the answer for himself (much to his annoyance). “You must look for what’s wounding him.”

“Haven’t I seen him as he is?” asked Harry, frustrated. “What’s wounding my son?” Harry reflected on Bane’s warning. _He dwells in the shadow of an unforeseen danger_. Something near him is putting him in danger. But what does Albus keep near him that could be causing him harm without him even knowing? He stood as a thought occurred to him. “Or is it _who’s_ wounding my son?”

Albus stirred. “Dad?” he mumbled, barely unconscious.

Gears started to turn in Harry’s mind. “This black cloud... the unforeseen danger... It’s someone, isn’t it? Not something? Someone’s casting a dark shadow over him.”

“Ah really, what does my opinion matter anymore?” said Dumbledore matter-of-factly. “I am paint and memory, Harry, paint and memory. And I never had a son.”

“Dad?” Albus rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Harry watched him wake, then looked up to see that Dumbledore had apparently wandered off to give the two some privacy.

“No, where have you gone?” Harry wondered, still filled with questions longing to be answered. 

Albus sat up and looked around. “We’re in—the hospital wing?”

Harry returned his attention to Albus, albeit slightly discombobulated. “Yes. And you’re—you will be fine.” Harry sat back in his chair. “For recuperation, Madam Pomfrey wasn’t sure what to prescribe and said you should probably eat lots of—chocolate.” He took a bar of chocolate from the bedside table. “Actually, do you mind if I have some—? I’ve got something to tell you and I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Albus looked at him, full of questions and worry, but decided not to engage. “Okay. I think.” Harry snapped off a rather large piece of chocolate and ate it. “Better?” Albus asked.

“Much,” said Harry, holding the chocolate out to Albus. He broke off a piece too, and they ate together. “The arm, how does it feel?

Albus flexed his arm. “It feels great. Where’s Scorpius? Where’s Delphi?”

“Scorpius is with Professor McGonagall and his father,” explained Harry. “And Delphi has returned to St. Oswald’s. We’re grateful she saw the emergency _Daily Prophet_ and volunteered to help. She said she wants to hear from you when you’re feeling better.”

“You sent out an emergency _Prophet_?”

“Your mum did, yeah,” said Harry softly. “She was worried sick. Where did you go, Albus? I can’t tell you what it did to us.”

“We decided we didn’t want to come to school,” explained Albus as he stared at his feet. “We thought we would be better off in the Muggle world—where being a Potter or a Malfoy didn’t come with any expectations. We discovered we were wrong. We were coming back to Hogwarts when you found us.”

“In Durmstrang robes?” Harry asked. “And why did you have an extra wand?”

Albus became flustered. “The robes were... the wand was . . . the whole thing—Scorpius and I—we didn’t think.”

“And why—why did you run? Because of me? Because of our argument?”

“I don’t know. A bunch of things. Hogwarts isn’t actually that pleasant of a place when you don’t fit in.” Albus looked solemnly at Harry. “Dad—I’m sorry. I know I’ve been—the world’s worst son. But I do know that you love me. And I’m sorry I’ve taken that for granted.”

Harry felt warmed by this and pulled Albus in for a hug. He held him tightly for a moment as he worked out the most delicate way to phrase what he needed to say. He pulled away and said, “I’m glad to hear you say that, Albus. And I’ll never stop trying to protect you. Which is why—and I do hate to ask this of you—but I would like you to spend some time away from Scorpius Malfoy.”

Albus leapt out of his bed, looking at his father incredulously. “What? Scorpius?”

“Just for now,” insisted Harry, trying ineffectually to calm Albus down. “Just until I’m sure you’re safe.”

“My best friend?” Albus protested. “My _only_ friend?”

“I have reason to believe that he may be putting you in danger,” Harry explained.

“Scorpius? Dangerous? Have you met him?” rebuked Albus. “Dad, if you’re one of those nutters who thinks he’s a Death Eater in disguise or the son of Voldemort or whatever...”

“I’m not sure what to think, but I’ll do some investigating. I don’t know if he’s dangerous or if being around him will lead you to danger, I just need you to steer clear of him for now. You two did jump off a moving train, after all. And Bane told me—”

“Who’s Bane?” asked Albus, although his surly tone made it clear that the question was entirely rhetorical.

“A centaur with profound Divination skills,” explained Harry, wishing he could find a better way to help Albus understand what he knew. “He said there’s a black cloud around you—that a dark shadow is being cast upon you—”

“A black cloud?” Albus shook his head in disbelief. 

“And I have very good reason to believe that Dark Magic is in a resurgence and I need to keep you safe from it. And once I’m sure you’re safe...”

“Safe from Scorpius?” asked Albus, offended.

“Perhaps,” said Harry, exhausted.

Albus’s paused furious, but lost for words. He strengthened his face. “And if I won’t?” he said defiantly. “Stay away from him?”

Harry realised that he wouldn’t be able to convince Albus, and so his only recourse became to make sure Albus obeyed. He knew Albus would be angry and would fight, but keeping Albus safe was Harry’s first priority. He looked at Albus remorsefully and said, “I’ll have to arrange for your lessons to be held separately. Furthermore, I will be giving Professor McGonagall a map to keep an eye on you. It used to be used for those wanting to get up to no good. Now it will be used to keep you _safe_. Any time you are seen together—she’ll come flying—any time you attempt to leave Hogwarts—she’ll fly. Between lesson and meals, you will stay in the Gryffindor common room. Am I understood?”

“You can’t make me go into Gryffindor! I’m in Slytherin!” protested Albus.

“Don’t play games, Albus, you know you’re a Gryffindor,” said Harry sternly, but leaving Albus confused. “If you force my hand, I will transfer you to Durmstrang, and you can put those robes of yours to use.”

Albus shook, overwhelmed. His face was awash by profound hurt. His eyes began to water, and his voice began to quaver. “But, Dad—you can’t—that’s just not...”

Watching Albus break down in front of him cut his heart deep, but he knew the best way to keep Albus safe was to keep him separate from Scorpius. Harry had to gather all his strength to speak with authority. “I thought for a long time I wasn’t a good enough dad for you because you didn’t like me. It’s only now I realise that I don’t need you to like me, I just need to protect you. I’m sorry, Albus. It has to be this way.”


	28. Ronald Weasley’s New Robes

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 9: Ronald Weasley’s New Robes 

Albus flung the doors to the Hospital Wing open and pursued his father. How could his dad take away the only part of Hogwarts that Albus liked? So what if some centaur told Harry there was a dark cloud around Albus? For all his dad knew, this Bane guy might have just been telling him the forecast. In no version of events did Scorpius pose any threat, of that much Albus was certain. If Harry wanted to tear them apart, then Albus wouldn’t let him do so without putting up a fight. He might not have inherited much from Harry, but he sure as hell inherited his determination to fight injustice.

Albus caught up to his dad as he turned a corner. “What if I run?” Albus called out. “I’ll run.”

“Albus, get back in bed,” Harry demanded.

Albus quickly formulated an escape plan in his head. He and Scorpius would run as far as they could before getting caught, and then use the Time-Turner to escape and run some more. It wasn’t an attractive plan, to be sure, but being together in hiding would be better than not being together at all. “I’ll run away again.” 

“No. You won’t.” Harry started up a staircase as Albus followed.

“I will—and this time I’ll make sure Ron can’t find us,” Albus insisted.

“Do I hear my name?” Ron appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Uncle Ron! Thank Dumbledore. If ever we needed one of your jokes, it’s now...” said Albus as he ran up to hug him. He noticed that Ron’s clothes were unusually tight-fitting, and he lacked his characteristic playful Ron-ness.

“Jokes?” puzzled Ron, as though the concept was foreign to him. “I don’t know any jokes.”

“Of course you do,” said Albus, also becoming confused. “You run a joke shop.”

“A joke shop? Well now,” said Ron, thoroughly confused. He perished the thought and pulled a small box from his robes to hand to Albus. “Anyway I’m pleased I caught you. I was going to bring some sweets—for a, uh, sort of, a, get well soon, but, uh... Actually Padma—she thinks about things a lot more—deeply—than I do—and she thought it’d be nice for you to get something useful for school. So we got you a—set of quills. Yes. Yes. Yes. Look at these bad boys. Top of the range.”

Ron opened the box to display some, frankly, attractive-looking quills. Albus ignored them. “Who’s Padma?” he asked.

“Your aunt,” said Harry as though Albus’s genuine confusion was some sort of tactless game that he didn’t have the patience for.

“I have an Aunt Padma?” Albus asked as he tried to remember the exceptionally plentiful branches of the Weasley family tree.

Ron leaned in close to Harry. “Taken a Confundus Charm to the head, has he?” He then spoke to Albus as though his nephew was hard of hearing. “My wife, Padma. You remember. Talks slightly too close to your face, smells a bit minty.” He leaned in. “Padma, mother of Paresh!” Ron shook his head and turned his attention back to Harry. “That’s why I’m here, of course. Paresh. He’s in trouble again. I wanted to just send a Howler, but Padma insisted I come in person. I don’t know why. He just laughs at me.”

“But... you’re married to Hermione,” said Albus. His mind struggled to make sense of the absurd information Ron gave him.

“Hermione?” Ron exclaimed, surprised and slightly nervous. “No. Nooooo. Merlin’s beard.”

Harry crossed his arms and said dispassionately, “Albus has also forgotten that he was sorted into Gryffindor. Conveniently.”

Ron patted Albus on the shoulder. “Yes, well, sorry, old chap, but you’re a Gryffindor.”

Albus hoped this was some terrible joke, as though it wasn’t enough to keep him and Scorpius apart that they had to play tricks on him too. But it dawned on him that when they went back in time, they must have changed something. And whatever events they altered meant Ron never married Hermione and Albus was somehow placed in a different house.

“But how did I get sorted into Gryffindor?” Albus asked, trying to understand what had changed.

“You persuaded the Sorting Hat, don’t you remember?” Ron explained. “Paresh bet you that you couldn’t get into Gryffindor if your life depended on it, so you chose Gryffindor to spite him. I can’t blame you, we’d all like to wipe the smile off his face sometimes, wouldn’t we,” he said dryly and then looked terrified as he realised what he had said. “Please don’t tell Padma I said that.”

“Who’s Paresh?” asked Albus. Ron and Harry stared at him blankly.

“Bloody hell, you’re really not yourself, are you?” remarked Ron. “Anyway, better go, before I’m sent a Howler myself.” Ron waved farewell and continued down the staircase.

“But that doesn’t... make sense,” Albus said to himself. His head ached as he tried to figure things out.

Once Ron was out of sight, Harry turned to Albus. “Albus, whatever you’re trying isn’t going to work. I will not change my mind. Now, since you’re feeling well enough to chase me about the castle, I’ll escort you to the Gryffindor common room and you will stay there until it is time for your lessons.”

Albus gathered his courage and looked Harry square in the eye. “Dad, I _really_ don’t think you know what I’m capable of—”

“ _Don’t_ threaten me, Albus Severus Potter,” Harry said with a fierce sternness that Albus hadn’t witnessed before. “I understand this is difficult for you, but I will ship you off to Durmstrang by sunrise if you test me.”

“Albus?” called Scorpius from behind them. Albus’s heart jumped and he ran down to him. Scorpius examined Albus’s arm and said, “You’re okay. That’s fantastic.”

“He’s completely cured. And we’ve got to go,” said Harry shortly.

Albus leaned toward Scorpius and asked with urgency, “Do you have it? Do you have the—you-know-what?”

The expression on Scorpius’s face immediately left Albus crestfallen. Scorpius sighed, “We have a problem, Albus—”

“Time to go,” urged Harry.

Albus looked at his dad, and then to Scorpius. The Time-Turner was their wildcard. Without it, Harry had all the power to keep them apart. He wanted to feel angry, but he just felt helpless.

“I’m sorry, Scorpius,” lamented Albus, and walked back up, deciding that angering his father even further would do no one any good.

“Are you mad at me?” Scorpius asked, worried. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t, okay?” said Albus, fighting back tears. 

“You can’t what?” panicked Scorpius.

To tell Scorpius the truth—that Harry Potter believed the rumours and thought Scorpius was a danger to Albus—would only hurt Scorpius more. Instead, Albus grit his teeth, but couldn’t bare to look Scorpius in the eye as he told him, “I just—need some time alone, okay? Some time without—you...”

Albus looked up at his dad, who nodded approvingly and with a tinge of sympathy. But as far as Albus was concerned, Harry was the only black cloud surrounding him. Harry led the way to the Gryffindor common room and Albus begrudgingly stepped in line. Scorpius remained behind in stunned silence, punctured only by a heartbroken whimper that followed Albus up the staircase.


	29. Harry Potter’s Request

## Part 1 - Act 2  


### Scene 10: Harry Potter’s Request

Harry laid out the Marauder’s Map on the desk in front of Professor McGonagall. He pointed to the Gryffindor common room where the words “Albus Potter” moved in circles around the room. Ginny stood behind him, arms crossed, trying to understand Harry’s intentions.

“I’m not sure this is what the Marauder’s Map was intended for,” said Professor McGonagall skeptically.

Harry gave her a pleading look. “All I’m asking is that if you see them together, you separate them as quickly as possible,” he explained.

“That’s quite a big ask, Harry,” Professor McGonagall reasoned. “Are you sure this is the right decision? Bane is known to be highly distrustful of wizards and... it’s not beyond him to twist the constellations for his own ends.”

Harry looked up at Dumbledore’s vacant portrait, hoping he would decide to reappear and back him up. The other portraits in the room had given up their pretense of sleeping. Even the portrait of Severus Snape watched Harry fight what felt more and more like a losing battle. Harry had a keen instinct of recognising dark magic when others failed to. Convincing others to trust his instincts was an impossible task when no one else had the experience of having the Dark Lord in their head.

“I know you don’t put much stock in Divination, Minerva, but I trust Bane,” said Harry. “Albus must stay away from Scorpius. It’s for his own good.”

“I’m still not so sure,” said Ginny, trying to convince herself to support Harry despite her own reservations. “Scorpius is his only friend, Harry. I don’t think it does him any good to be isolated like this.”

“It won’t do him any good if Scorpius brings danger to him. An unforeseen danger casts a dark shadow on him—Scorpius spends more time with him than anyone. There are already so many rumours... it’s not unlikely one of them has weight. He may be putting Albus in danger, even if he doesn’t realise it himself. ”

Professor McGonagall looked at him, appalled. “Albus has been checked by the greatest witches and wizards in the country and no one can find or sense a hex or a curse.”

“And Dumbledore—Dumbledore said—”

“What?” said McGonagall as though it was unusual to be talking to a dead person.

“His portrait. We spoke. He said some things which made sense—”

“Dumbledore is dead, Harry,” said McGonagall firmly. “And I’ve told you before, portraits don’t represent even half of their subjects.”

“He said love has blinded me,” explained Harry, knowing he couldn’t give the gravitas and wisdom to Dumbledore’s words that they deserved.

“A portrait is little more than a memoir, even that of such a brilliant man,” insisted McGonagall, slightly losing her patience. “We hang the head teachers’ portraits in this office only as a support mechanism for the decisions we have to make. But I was advised when I took this job not to mistake the painting for the person. And you would be well-advised to do the same.”

“She’s right, Harry,” said Ginny. “You’re too quick to put your faith in advice—wherever it may come—only if it suits you.”

“But he was _right_ ,” Harry urged. “I see it now. I’ve spent so much time wanting to protect Albus, but I’ve been too scared of hurting him to put my foot down. But I realise—fatherhood isn’t about making my son like me, it’s about keeping him _safe_. I beg you Minerva, think of what ends you would go to in order to keep your students safe.”

Professor McGonagall considered these words, looking conflicted. “Harry, I...” 

Harry begged, “Please. Just until we know just what dangers are gathering. Just until we know the rumours are false. Just until we know the darkness is out of reach of him.”

She clasped her hands together, thinking deeply. When she replied, she did so with trepidation. “Against my better judgement, I will honour your wishes, Mr. Potter.”

“Thank you, Minerva—”

“ _But,_ ” she interrupted, “if the harm this causes either of them becomes too great to bare, I won’t be so easily persuaded. The word of a centaur is no good to me—you must bring me evidence that Scorpius poses a danger to Albus, or I will no longer interfere. And I will _not_ protect your actions from Draco, should he get involved.”

McGonagall spoke with a severity that Harry knew he could not contend with. He looked desperately to Ginny, hoping she would take his side, “Ginny, please...”

“I know you’ve been right about these sorts of things before, Harry, which is why I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt,” she said. “But I don’t think I can stand to see Albus suffering much longer—particularly not at your hands. If you can’t substantiate this ominous black cloud, I will support Minerva’s decision entirely. Is that understood?”

Harry looked to Professor McGonagall and then back to Ginny. He knew them both well enough that when they’ve made a decision, it would be final. “Okay—yes,” Harry conceded. “I understand.”

Harry didn’t return home that night. Instead, he returned to his office and laid out every document and file about unsolved cases of dark magic in the past twenty years, to the most recent activities of Voldemort’s followers. That night he fell asleep at his desk with a reopened case file on the Malfoy family spread out in front of him.


	30. Professor Granger’s Lesson

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 11: Professor Granger’s Lesson

It took Albus a minute to remember where he was. He was not accustomed to waking up in a scarlet four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, and for a brief moment in the dreary state between asleep and awake, Albus had forgotten about the events of the previous day. At once, the memory returned to him, and he resolved to skip breakfast and instead remain in bed with despondent lethargy.

It was evident immediately that being a Gryffindor did not mean he was more popular, as he discovered that someone had transfigured the curtains of his bed to stone. He had to climb over the frame of his bed to escape, smacking the floor hard with his face. As he made his way to his Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, the other students mocked him about his attempted escape. A couple fifth year boys pretended to guard windows as Albus approached to prevent him from climbing out. Karl Jenkins teased that Albus and Scorpius shouldn’t have cut their honeymoon short. A Slytherin prefect even threatened to give him detention because he looked a bit shifty.

Albus didn’t anticipate how long a walk from the Gryffindor common room to the third floor would take. By the time he pushed open the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, class had already started. To his amazement, Hermione Granger stood at the front of the lesson.

“Ooh, look who it is,” Hermione teased as Albus entered the classroom. “Took you long enough.”

“Hermione?” asked Albus as the whole class turned their attention to him.

“That’s Professor Granger to you, sonny,” said Hermione whimsically. She walked to the standing chalkboard and turned it around. The backside had drawn on it a scoreboard for a betting pool on when Albus and Scorpius would return to Hogwarts. The earliest guess belonged to Hermione, with the latest guess belonging to Polly Chapman for the nineteenth of never. “Alright everyone, time to pay up. Am I the only one who had him down for showing back up on Thursday?”

The class let out a collective groan and opened their desks. From inside, they each pulled out different amounts of Famous Witches and Wizards Cards, which began to float towards Hermione once the students sat them on their desks.

“This lot had _no_ faith in you,” remarked Hermione as she sorted through the cards floating towards her.

“What are you doing here?” Albus asked.

“Well, right now I’m collecting my...” She became distracted by her cards and then looked disapprovingly at Yann Fredericks. “ _Two_ Newt Scamanders, Yann? Don’t be cheap, I know you have a Morgan Le Fey.” She returned her attention to Albus. “Famous Witches and Wizards Cards—surprisingly underrated teaching tools. I’m pretty sure I’ve helped more students pass their History of Magic exams than boring old Professor Binns. Have a seat and we’ll start the lesson—it’s a good one.”

“ _You’re_ our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Albus said in awe. The other students started to titter.

“That’s what they pay me for,” said Hermione as she set the cards on her desk.

Albus struggled to comprehend this. Why on earth would Hermione give up her job at the Ministry to work at Hogwarts? “But you’re... You’re... you’re Minister of Magic.”

“Minister of Magic?” said Hermione, taken aback. “Blimey... could you imagine? I’d be bored death. Did you hit your head on your fall from the train?”

“Okay, something’s seriously weird here,” said Albus, unable to comprehend Hermione being anything less than the most powerful woman in Britain. “I mean, first Ron was acting strange... and well, Ron’s always been a few owls short of a parliament. But you...”

“Ron? Ron Weasley?” said Hermione as though the name was only distantly familiar. She flipped through her stack of cards and pulled one out. “Speak of the devil.” She held up a card with Ron’s portrait on it and tossed it to Albus (who merely looked at it with a raised eyebrow as it flew past him). “That can be your cut. Now take a seat.”

“But you’re never fun...” he said as he sat at a nearby desk.

“Oi! I resent that! Five points from Gryffindor.”

Polly leapt out of her seat and angrily stomped her foot on the floor. “No. No. He’s doing it deliberately. He hates Gryffindor and everyone knows it.”

“Sit down, Chapman,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. She flicked her wand and Polly flew into the air then landed indelicately in her seat. Hermione walked over and placed a card on her desk. “And you can keep your Hermione Granger card. Flattery will get you as far with me as it will with a dementor. Which, if I do say so myself, segues nicely into our lesson. Who can tell me what is the best defence for a dementor?” Hands shot into the air. “Mr. Fredericks?”

Yann lowered his hand and answered, “A Patronus Charm.”

“Correct!” said Hermione, laying a Famous Witches and Wizards Card on his desk. “A Patronus is a magical charm—a projection of all your most positive feelings—and takes the shape of an animal with whom you share the deepest affinity. It is a gift of light. If you can conjure a Patronus, you can protect yourself against the darkness of the world. Which, in some of our cases, may be a necessity sooner rather than later.”

Albus found Hermione’s lesson to be unusually enjoyable, but entirely weird. This was not the Hermione he knew. There was a sadness and desperation behind her fun teacher performance that only he could see, and he knew exactly what was missing. To make matters worse, Albus knew he was responsible. Whatever changes he made to the past changed the present. And now, with his father on a warpath against Scorpius, Albus had to endure this new present on his own.


	31. Staircase Ballet

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 12: Staircase Ballet

Hogwarts became a most unwelcoming prison for Albus Potter. Albus felt the unseen, watchful eyes of Professor McGonagall bearing down on him everywhere he went. A house-elf had meals waiting in the Gryffindor common room three times a day. Portraits seemed to be more attentive than usual, and some spent a great amount of time far from their own frames whenever Albus strayed from the beaten path. Teachers would give him warning glances every time Albus lingered too long in a hallway, waiting for Scorpius to walk by. It felt like Harry watched over Albus’s shoulder everywhere he went, and he worried that so much as an apology to Scorpius would cause his father to enact an almighty retribution.

Without a friend to suffer through the constant barrage of laughter and insults, Albus had to learn to tune out the world around him. He retreated into his own space, enduring the daily indignities as though he were holding his breath underwater. Suffocating in a suppressive isolation was painful to withstand, but it was easier than weathering turbulent waters. Doing so was made easier each day as he passed Scorpius on the way to class. Every brief sighting of Scorpius felt like a breath of air.

Agreeing not to interact with Scorpius didn’t mean that Albus couldn’t still cross paths with him. Seeing Scorpius in the halls and staircases was unavoidable, not that Albus made any effort to avoid doing so. In fact, he would actively take paths he knew Scorpius would take to class just to make their separation bearable. These passings proved more difficult for Scorpius to bear. At first, whenever Scorpius saw Albus, he would beg for an explanation. As weeks went on and Albus still wouldn’t reply, Scorpius gave up trying to communicate entirely, but remained noticeably hurt.

Albus wrote his mother daily. At first, the letters he sent only begged her to talk sense into his dad. As the days turned to weeks, he wrote her just to remind her of the pain he was in. Her responses walked a fine line of supporting Albus but not undermining Harry’s decision. Albus could tell in every carefully dictated word she wrote that she knew keeping them separated was a terrible decision, even if she didn’t state so outright.

Delphi’s letters were far more gratifying. She was happy to partake in condemning Harry’s performance as a father, as well as encouraging Albus to defy him and find Scorpius and the Time-Turner and have another adventure. She explained that Ron took Cedric’s wand when Albus passed out, and Amos's grief was worsening. She wanted more than anything to help him, and she and Albus plotted new ways of working with the Time-Turner’s limitations to fulfill their promise to Amos. However, without Scorpius and the Time-Turner, the plotting was an exercise in futility.

As the weeks turned into months, Scorpius stopped taking his usual paths to class. Albus wondered if Harry had threatened Scorpius to keep away too, and so Albus would discretely search new corridors and staircases every day to find Scorpius’s new path. Eventually, Albus would find Scorpius’s new path, after which the path would change and Albus would have to search again. And on. And on.

Over time (and with reassurances from Ginny) Albus understood that Scorpius wasn’t being threatened at all. Albus presumed that Scorpius made the choice to avoid him, which was a difficult realisation for him to come to. Did this mean that he wasn’t as important to Scorpius as Scorpius was to Albus? Or was the sight of his estranged friend more painful for Scorpius than it was for Albus?

An idea came to Albus after James got detention for sneaking into the kitchens past curfew. Albus sneaked into James’s dormitory and stole the Invisibility Cloak from his chest. With the ability to render himself unseen, Albus could to manoeuvre to his classes while avoiding the usual sneering from students, was relieved of the weight of constant supervision of teachers and prefects and paintings and ghosts, and could even find the secluded staircase Scorpius took to class everyday without him immediately changing routes the next day.

Although having made the best of his situation, Albus was still insufferably lonely. Without even the bullies to shout abuse at him, his only means of communication were with Ginny and Delphi. However, his mother’s tempered words were unsatisfactory without the vindication he craved, and Delphi’s letters were mostly concerned with plotting how to find the Time-Turner and fulfilling Amos’s request. Actual human interaction was minimal. In an act of desperation, he reached out to his teachers for companionship. 

In what became a sort of self-imposed detention, Hermione offered to give him extra practise after class. Under Hermione’s tutelage, Albus found that his spellwork improved considerably, and learnt a great deal from her about the course of events after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Professor Longbottom was also willing to spend time with Albus. Though Albus was reluctant to share all his thoughts with his teacher, Professor Longbottom understood Albus implicitly and gave advice that Albus could appreciate. Albus wished he’d spent less time sulking in the back of Herbology class and instead gave Professor Longbottom the attention he deserved.

Every day became a routine that kept his bleak situation manageable, but never comfortable. He would still pass Scorpius on the secluded staircase back and forth and back again every day in a perpetual dance between classes. He still suffered Scorpius’s absence, but not (as he learnt) as much as Scorpius. One Friday morning he found Scorpius sitting on the staircase, sobbing quietly. Albus felt guilt seize his throat. He got to know what was keeping them apart. He got to see Scorpius every day. But Scorpius was alone in the dark. Albus wanted nothing more that to risk everything, throw off the Invisibility Cloak, and reach out to him. But as Madam Hooch arrived on the staircase to usher Scorpius to class, Albus’s fear of his father overtook him. Overcome with shame and sadness, Albus continued on to class and decided to no longer take the secluded staircase. 


	32. The Midnight Duel

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 13: The Midnight Duel

Harry sat at the kitchen table with an untouched cup of tea in front of him. Ginny leaned against the counter, sipping her tea and staring daggers at Harry as though a stranger was sitting at her table. Harry looked unkempt from his tireless work researching any possible dark influence Scorpius Malfoy could be having on Albus. Only, every investigation led to a dead end, all the while Albus suffered.

“This is the right decision,” asserted Harry.

“You almost sound convinced,” said Ginny blankly.

“You told me to be honest with him,” explained Harry (mostly to himself), “but I actually needed to be honest with myself, trust what my heart was telling me...”

“Harry, you have one of the greatest hearts of any wizard who ever lived, and I do not believe your heart told you to do this.”

“He’s in danger, I can feel it—and not just because of what Bane said.”

“And have you found any evidence?” Ginny asked pointedly.

Harry had difficulty answering. “No, but... I’m very close to finally cracking Theodore Nott.”

Ginny shook her head and sat her teacup on the counter. “I don’t think I can stand for much more of this, Harry. I’m writing McGonagall.”

“Ginny, wait...” implored Harry.

As Ginny opened a drawer to grab some parchment, a knock at the front door interrupted her. “Saved by the door,” she said, and entered the hallway. When she opened the door, Harry heard her speaking to someone, and the next moment, Draco Malfoy entered the kitchen alone, hiding his fury with remarkable skill.

“I can’t stay long,” said Draco. “I won’t need long.”

“How can I help?” said Harry as he stood to pour a cup of tea for Draco.

“I’m not here to antagonise you,” said Draco with all the calmness he could muster, through a repressed anger still broke through his shaking voice. “But my son is in tears and I am his father and so I am here to ask you why you are keeping our sons apart.”

“I’m not keeping them apart,” lied Harry.

Draco twitched, trying desperately to control his anger. “Don’t lie to me, Harry Potter. I know you’ve changed their school timetables and you’ve set the Headmistress to watch over him constantly. Why?”

“I have to protect my son,” explained Harry simply.

“From Scorpius?” asked Draco, dumbfounded.

“Bane told me he sensed a darkness around my son. Near my son.”

Draco paused as he worked out what Harry said. He grit his teeth and gave Harry a dangerous stare. “What are you implying, Potter?”

Harry gathered himself and looked Draco straight in the eye. Cautiously, he asked, “Have you... have you ever had Scorpius... looked at?”

All pretense flooded away from Malfoy’s face, and he was left with nothing but an unbridled repulsion beyond anger. “How _dare_ you?”

“Just to make sure...”

“Make sure of _what_?” he interrupted, his voice thick with vitriol. “That he’s not practising dark magic? That he’s not cursed? That he’s not Voldemort’s heir? All your rubbish about not feeding the rumours, yet you eat them up yourself.”

Malfoy whipped his wand sharply from his robes and aimed it at Harry.

“You don’t want to do this,” warned Harry as he slowly moved his hand to his own wand.

“Yes, I do,” said Malfoy definitively.

“I don’t want to have to hurt you, Draco.”

“Don’t worry,” sneered Malfoy. “I’ll make sure you can’t hurt me or my son any longer.”

Harry took out his wand and the two squared up.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” they shouted in unison.

Red light bursted from each of their wands and collided. The force of the collision knocked both of them backwards.

Malfoy got to his feet and shouted, “ _Incarcerous!_ ”, shooting ropes from the tip of his wand.

Harry dodged. “ _Tarantallegra!_ ” he shouted, but Malfoy countered the spell. Harry grunted, “You’ve been practising, Draco.” 

“And you’ve gotten sloppy, Potter. _Densaugeo!_ ” A white light shot at Harry, but Harry narrowly dived out of the way as the spell smashed into the teapot. The teapot exploded, sending shrapnel and hot water flying around the room.

Harry readied his wand and shouted, “ _Rictusempra!_ ” Red light darted across the kitchen, but Malfoy levitated a chair in its path which was knocked into the ceiling.

“ _Flipendo!_ ” shouted Malfoy as a blue barrage of magic sent Harry twirling through the air. Malfoy laughed. “Keep up, old man.”

“We’re the same age, Draco,” said Harry as he got to his feet.

“I wear it better,” said Malfoy smugly.

“ _Brachiabindo!_ ” A string of chain-shaped magic bound Malfoy tightly.

“That really the best you got?” laughed Malfoy, and he waved his wand at his side. “ _Emancipare_.” The bindings dissipated and Draco raised his wand. “ _Levicorpus!_ ” Harry dodged out of the way, knocking into the table as Malfoy fired another spell. “ _Mobilicorpus!_ ” The spell hit Harry squarely in chest and raised him into the air like a puppet on strings. Draco waved his wand up and down, causing Harry to be thrown repeatedly against the table. “Oh, this is too much fun...”

Harry manages to resist the spell and roll away. Draco leapt onto the table and prepared to hex, but Harry was quicker.

“ _Obscuro!_ ” A blindfold caught Malfoy off-balance as it wrapped around his eyes. He fell backwards but he managed to release the blindfold just as quickly as it hit. 

Malfoy and Harry squared up again. Harry sent a chair flying toward Malfoy, but he ducked under it and froze it in mid-air at the same moment Ginny entered the kitchen. She looked at the damage in disbelief.

“I only left this room three minutes ago!” Draco and Harry lowered their wands. Ginny waved hers, and the floating chairs returned to the floor. She looked to the boys with utter disapproval. “What did I miss?”


	33. The Squib on the Secluded Staircase

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 14: The Squib on the Secluded Staircase

Scorpius found it difficult to get out of bed in the mornings these days. He hadn’t eaten breakfast in weeks, opting instead to lie in bed and stare at the spot where Albus’s bed once sat, where now was only a window into the lake with fish swimming by. His only friend had abandoned him, and he didn’t understand why. He supposed Albus had no need for a Slytherin friend now that he was in Gryffindor. All he could do was wonder why Albus wouldn’t speak to him, which turned into wondering why it hurt him so much to still see Albus every day, which turned into wondering why Albus still pervaded his every thought even when Scorpius avoided him. He mulled over these feelings each night as he drifted off to sleep, and over time the feelings evolved into something else entirely.

Friday evening, Scorpius found it difficult to sleep at all. He had finally broken down and wrote to his father, telling him how miserable he was and that Albus was ignoring him completely. Draco had never been a great emotional crutch to Scorpius, and he expected his father to be relieved that he and Albus Potter were no longer speaking. To Scorpius’s surprise, however, Draco’s letter returned insisting he would get to the bottom of it and speak to Harry.

Scorpius stayed up all night, wrought with anticipation. When he failed to fall asleep, he paced the Slytherin Common Room instead. An hour before curfew ended, he decided to sneak out for a stroll around the castle. Without the fear of running into other students and only the ghosts and portraits to keep him company, Hogwarts felt unusually unassuming. He talked a lot with ghosts and portraits recently, for lack of any other companionship, and found that they were surprisingly eager to meet someone genuinely interested in the stories they had to tell. He was, after all, possibly the only person in Hogwarts history whose favourite class was History of Magic, taught by the semiconscious ghost of Professor Binns. This morning, he spoke at length with the ghost of Nearly Headless Nick about the (somewhat embellished) heroic part he played in the Battle of Hogwarts.

After a visit to the Astronomy Tower to watch the sunrise, he decided to pay a visit to the Library when he was stopped on his way down the staircase by a familiar, but unlikely face. Delphi trotted up the stairs, looking around to make sure she wasn’t drawing suspicion.

“So—technically—I shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“Delphi?” remarked Scorpius, surprised.

“This place is pretty incredible on the inside, isn’t it?” she mused in wonder. “So many portraits. And corridors. And ghosts! This half-headless, strange-looking ghost told me where I could find you, can you believe that?”

“Delphi, it could be really dangerous for you to be here—” said Scorpius with trepidation, but also a quiet displeasure to see her at all.

“I know, but—we need to go back,” said Delphi, ever eager. “Uncle Amos is heartbroken. He regrets getting you involved.”

Scorpius looked at her in a stunned surprise. Suddenly, Delphi turned around to look out a window as the Head Boy passed them. When he had gone, Scorpius said, “I don’t think that will do us any good. First off, the Time-Turner only lasts for five minutes, so our chances of finding Cedric in time is enormously small. Secondly, the last time we went back, Albus got hurt. Thirdly, we messed time up seriously by taking Cedric’s wand—Ron and Hermione are completely skewwhiff—and I don’t think we can risk causing any bigger changes.”

“I know. Albus owled me,” said Delphi, and Scorpius felt an unmistakable jealousy. “But we worked out a new plan together. If we can’t deliver the letter to Cedric this time in person, we’ll just ask another student to pass it on to him. No mess, no fuss, no nasty consequences. And if one of us gets hurt, well—we knew there would be danger when we signed up for this. I have the letter, all we need is to find the Time-Turner.”

Scorpius was shocked to learn that Albus and Delphi didn’t know the Time-Turner was still in his possession. He decided the best way to prevent any more harm with the Time-Turner was to keep its location secret. “Well, great,” he said shortly. “I’m sure you two will have a happy adventure together.” Scorpius started back down the staircase, but Delphi stopped him.

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” she said gently. “He doesn’t want to come without you. Every owl he sends I can feel your absence. He’s destroyed by it.”

Scorpius scowled. He could barely be relieved to hear Albus missed him because he was so annoyed that he had spoken more to Delphi than his best friend. He responded bitterly, “Sounds like he’s found a shoulder to cry on. How many owls has he sent you now?” Delphi smiled softly, sensing his hurt. Scorpius suddenly felt bad for lashing out at her. After all, she wasn’t to blame. “Sorry. That’s—I didn’t mean—I just—don’t understand what’s going on,” he complained. “I’ve tried to see him, talk to him, but every time I do he runs off.”

Delphi looked at him sympathetically. “You know, I didn’t have a best friend when I was your age. I wanted one. Desperately. When I was younger I even invented one but—”

“I had one of those too,” interjected Scorpius. “Called Flurry. We fell out over the correct rules to Gobstones.”

Delphi giggled. She touched his arm. “Albus needs you, Scorpius. That’s a wonderful thing.”

“He needs me to do what?” asked Scorpius. 

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? You don’t know what he needs. You only know he needs it. Find him, Scorpius. You two—you belong together.” 

He started to understand why Albus was so drawn to her. He didn’t feel the draw, but he understood it. “Okay, say I find him, what’s the plan?” he asked reluctantly.

“Meet me in the second floor girls’ bathroom,” she said with a triumphant grin. “I saw an out of order sign so I’ll probably be safe to hide out there. But make sure to come find me right away. Don’t keep me waiting!” She gave Scorpius a hug and ran down the stairs, looking carefully around the corner before disappearing.


	34. Draco Unriddled

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 15: Draco Unriddled

Harry and Draco sat at opposite ends of the table after having restored order to the kitchen. Ginny stood between them, clutching her wand in her crossed arms in the event that the two started another row.

“Sorry about your kitchen, Ginny,” said Draco stiffly.

“Oh, it’s not my kitchen,” remarked Ginny. “Harry does most of the cooking.”

Morning sunlight peeked through the newly-repaired curtains. Harry blotted his bleeding lip with a handkerchief as Draco held up a teacup for the levitating teapot to pour into.

“I can’t talk to him either. Scorpius,” said Draco, after having taken a sip of tea. “Especially since—Astoria has gone. I can’t even talk about how losing her has affected him. You can’t talk to Albus. I can’t talk to Scorpius. That’s what this is about. Not about my son being evil. Because as much as you might take the word of a haughty centaur, you know the power of friendship.”

“Draco, whatever you may think...” Harry started, but Draco continued.

“I always envied you them, you know—Weasley and Granger. I had—”

“Crabbe and Goyle,” finished Ginny with an unimpressed tone.

Draco nodded. “Two lunks who wouldn’t know one end of a broomstick from another,” he said. “You—the three of you—you shone, you know? You liked each other. You had fun. I envied you those friendships more than anything else.”

“I envied them too,” admitted Ginny. 

Harry looked to her, surprised. He said, “I need to protect him. My parents gave their lives to protect me, and it was because of their sacrifice that Voldemort wasn’t able to touch me—why he wasn’t able to kill me after using my blood in his regeneration. If I can’t protect my own son—”

Draco interrupted, “My father thought he was protecting me. Most of the time. People say parenting is the hardest job in the world — they’re wrong — growing up is. We all just forget how hard it was.”

Harry was taken aback. He struggled to believe that the boy who spent their school years tormenting him and his friends relentingly had anything but a charmed childhood. Yet, there was wisdom to his words. Harry supposed having Lucius Malfoy as a father came with its own trials. Perhaps bringing up Scorpius to be an undisputedly (despite his best efforts) decent and bright boy, Draco had learned from his father’s mistakes.

Draco went on, “I think you have to make a choice — at a certain point — of the man you want to be. All I tell you that at that time you need a parent or a friend. And if you’ve learnt to hate your parent by then and you have no friends… then you’re all alone. And being alone — that’s so hard. I was alone. And it sent to me a truly dark place. For a long time. Tom Riddle was also a lonely child. You may not understand that, Harry, but I do — and I think Ginny does too.”

“He’s right,” said Ginny grimly. “My dark place took me to the Chamber of Secrets, possessed by Voldemort and terrorising Muggleborns. Who knows where this kind of isolation could lead Albus?”

Harry reached out and grabbed her hand, knowing how much she hated remembering her first year at Hogwarts.

“Tom Riddle didn’t emerge from his dark place," Draco continued. "And so Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort. Maybe the black cloud Bane saw was Albus’s loneliness. His pain. His hatred. Don’t lose the boy. You’ll regret it. And so will he. Because he needs you, and Scorpius, whether or not he now knows it.”

Draco’s words resonated in Harry’s mind. They felt familiar, like he had thought them before but perished them before they could undermine his investigation. Now that Draco made Harry confront them, the truth was undeniable.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. 

“Harry,” said Ginny. Harry looked up at her to see her smiling warmly as she pulled on a shawl. “Will you get the Floo powder, or shall I?”


	35. True and Total Losers

## Part 1 - Act 2 

### Scene 16: True and Total Losers

Outside of his dormitory, the only place at Hogwarts Scorpius felt comfortable was the Library. Only, without Albus, his dormitory felt unfamiliar, leaving the Library as his only refuge. It seemed unlikely that he would find anyone in the Library on a Saturday morning, but to his surprise, Albus stood at a bookshelf full of magazines and newspapers with one folded open in his hands. Scorpius looked at him with hope and a little bit of anger. Albus looked back at him with sadness and a little bit of excitement.

“Hi,” said Scorpius, walking cautiously to him.

“Scorpius. I can’t...” said Albus with restraint.

“I know,” said Scorpius. “You’re in Gryffindor now. You don’t want to see me now. But here I am anyway. Talking to you.”

Albus backed away, avoiding eye contact. “Well, I can’t talk so...”

“You have to.” Scorpius hushed his voice as Polly Chapman sat down at a nearby table and spread out her homework. “You think you can just ignore everything that’s happened? The world has gone crazy, have you noticed?”

“I know, okay?” said Albus, becoming increasingly worried. “Ron’s gone strange. Hermione’s a professor, it’s all wrong, but...”

“And Rose doesn’t exist,” added Scorpius.

“I know,” Albus admitted with guilt. “Look, I don’t understand everything but you can’t be here.”

Scorpius bore into him with determination, refusing to allow their situation to be glossed over. “Because of what we did, Ron and Hermione never got married, and Rose and Hugo were never born.”

Albus pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet out, and showed it to Scorpius. “Well, about that, I found some articles in the Library...”

“Albus Potter. Doing research in the Library,” laughed Scorpius. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up,” said Albus, suppressing a laugh. “Anyway, I found some articles written by Rita Skeeter about the Triwizard Tournament. Apparently, Hermione got into a very public argument with Viktor Krum when he asked to take her to the Yule Ball. She said she saw Durmstrang students sabotage Cedric’s task.”

“That must have been us,” Scorpius deduced.

“Right. So instead of Krum taking her to the ball, Ron was the one who took Hermione.”

“What?!” sputtered Scorpius, neglecting to keep his voice down in his surprise.

“Sshhh!” hushed Polly.

Albus turned his head to give her an apologetic look and moved Scorpius deeper into the Library. Albus went on, “I tried to ask Hermione about Ron, but all she would tell me was that they dated for a little while, but it was rushed... then they argued. A lot. Ron thought Hermione was too serious, Hermione thought Ron wasn’t serious enough.”

“So Ron settled down and Hermione loosened up,” concluded Scorpius. “They turned into new people and never fell in love. And their new personalities don’t suit either of them. Because of us. We changed them.”

Albus looked at Scorpius hopefully. “Do you think this is why Dad’s so—do you think he changed too?”

“I’m pretty sure your dad is exactly the same,” said Scorpius. “Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Married to Ginny. Three kids.”

“So why is he being such a—” Albus cut himself short as the librarian, Madam Pince walked past them with an ever-present stern look on her face.

“I know you’ve been writing to Delphi,” said Scorpius as soon as Madam Pince could no longer hear their whispers. “I know what you two were planning.” 

“Not much of a plan without the Time-Turner,” admitted Albus. “We’d have to scour the Forbidden Forest just to find it.”

“Well... as it happens...” Scorpius carefully pulled the Time-Turner out of his inner pocket and showed it to Albus.

“You still have it!” said Albus excitedly, forgetting his volume. “We can go back! We can still do what we promised Amos!”

“Ssshhh!” hushed Madam Pince crossly.

“Shh—we _can_ go back,” said Scorpius, moving Albus deeper into the Library still. “But I don’t think we should. I’ve been reading up on time magic. Professor Croaker’s law states that the furthest someone can go back in time without the possibility of serious harm to the traveller or time itself is five hours. And we went back years. The smallest moment, the smallest change, it creates ripples. And we—we’ve created really bad ripples. Rose was never born because of what we did. Rose. Imagine what could happen if we go back again.”

“No. We made a promise to Cedric’s father,” protested Albus, and he snatched the Time-Turner out of Scorpius’s hands. “One letter isn’t going to stop anyone from being born. And while we’re there, we can tell everyone we disarmed Cedric so Ron and Hermione will make up.”

“No, Albus,” demanded Scorpius, trying to grab the Time-Turner but Albus pushed him back. “Don’t you understand what’s at risk here?”

“We have to do this, Scorpius,” insisted Albus, dodging Scorpius’s reach. “We’ll be more careful.” Albus tried to force Scorpius away as he latched his pale hands onto Albus’s arm. “Whatever Croaker says, trust me, trust me. We’ll get it right this time.”

The struggle over the Time-Turner evolved into an inexpert wrestle. Scorpius’s heart began to race, becoming more and more frustrated. 

“No. We won’t,” grunted Scorpius. “Give it back, Albus! Give it back!”

“I can’t. This is too important.”

“Yes, it’s too important—for us,” said Scorpius, trying to talk reason into Albus mid-tussle. “We’re not good at this stuff. We’ll get it wrong.”

“Who’s saying we’ll get it wrong?” asked Albus, growing more angry.

“ _I_ say. Because that’s _what we do_ ,” explained Scorpius, suddenly becoming overwhelmed by emotion. “We mess things up. We lose. We’re losers, true and total losers. Haven’t you realised that yet?”

Albus’s face turned red as he finally got the upper hand on Scorpius and pinned him to the ground. Frustrated, he bellowed, “Well, I wasn’t a loser before I met you.”

Scorpius struggled. “Albus, whatever you’ve got to prove to your dad—this isn’t the way.”

“I don’t have anything to prove to my dad,” insisted Albus unconvincingly. “I just... have to do this, okay?! And maybe—without you holding me back—I can make a proper go of it.”

Scorpius managed to wriggle out of Albus’s grasp, and stared him down angrily. “So now you want to go without me? You really must have a chip on your shoulder. Poor Albus Potter. Pushing away everyone who loves him. Poor Albus Potter. So sad.”

“What are you saying?” asked Albus through gritted teeth.

Scorpius couldn't control himself. The hurt and anger and grief and longing all exploded out at him at once. “Try my life! People look at you because your dad’s the famous Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World. People look at me because my father and grandfather were Death Eaters. Oh, but to you that makes me lucky. All I have to do is... what was it... not be completely evil? Well, look what all that’s gotten me—one ungrateful friend.”

“Don’t even—” started Albus, but Scorpius didn’t let him finish.

“Can you even slightly imagine what it’s like? Have you even ever tried? No. Because you can’t see beyond the end of your nose. Because you can’t see beyond the end of your stupid thing with your dad. He will always be Harry Potter, you know that, right? And you will always be his son. And I know it’s hard, and the other kids are awful, but you have to learn to be okay with that, because—there are worse things, okay?”

He paused. Albus looked at him with shock. Scorpius felt tears in his eyes, not knowing when they started pouring out. The sadness overcame the anger as he continued. “There was a moment I was excited, when I realised time was different, a moment when I thought maybe my mum hadn't got sick. Maybe my mum wasn’t dead. But no, turns out, she was. I’m still the child of Death Eaters, without a mother, giving sympathy to the boy who doesn’t ever give anything back. So I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your life because I tell you—you wouldn’t have a chance of ruining mine—it was already ruined. You just didn’t make it better. Because you’re a terrible—the most terrible—friend. And I must be the world’s most massive idiot to fall in love with such a selfish prat.”

As soon as the words passed his lips, fear coursed through every inch of Scorpius's scrawny body. He had barely considered the idea himself, but now he had blurted it out. He spent weeks languishing without Albus, and he was sensible enough to know there was more there, but too scared to actualise into words.

“You... what?” asked Albus, confused.

“Nothing... it was nothing...” said Scorpius, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. “That came out wrong. I was just emotional. I got... worked up is all.”

“Albus? Albus Potter.” Professor McGonagall’s voice called out through the Library. Albus looked terrified and began searching his bag. “Scorpius Malfoy. Are you in there—together? Because I advise you not to be.”

“Quick. We need to hide,” said Albus as he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak.

Scorpius looked around, thoroughly confused. “What?”

“Scorpius, look at me,” said Albus desperately.

“That’s the Invisibility Cloak? Isn’t it James’s?”

“If she finds us, we’ll be forced apart forever,” explained Albus. He begged, “Please. I didn’t understand. Please.”

Professor McGonagall’s voice called out again, but sounded more like an announcement than a stern warning. “I am about to enter.”

Scorpius felt the silky fabric of the Invisibility Cloak being pulled over him. Albus stood close to him, breathing softly in his ear as they huddled together underneath the cloak. Scorpius stood perfectly still and didn’t breathe at all. 

Professor McGonagall came into view holding a large parchment. She looked around, but was unable to spot the two boys. They carefully sneaked farther into the Library and hid in the Temporal Antiquities section. 

She consulted the map, exasperated. “Well, where have they—I never wanted this thing and now it’s playing tricks on me.” She began to walk toward them, eyes on the parchment. Albus and Scorpius scuttled away from her, trying (and failing) to avoid pushing around books and lamps as they moved. 

As they passed through Scholastic Revisionism, Albus tripped and unshrouded Scorpius from the cloak. As McGonagall approached the source of the clamour that ensued, Scorpius and Albus separated, unable to bring Scorpius back under the cloak in time. Terrified and unable to find Albus, Scorpius carefully navigated the Library and narrowly avoided a collapse of novels in the Speculative Literature section. He heard two sets of footsteps approaching, unsure which set belonged to who until he found the cloak drape over him once more. Albus led Scorpius into Transubstantial Heredity where they found a dead end. As they turned to retreat, they found Professor McGonagall blocking their path. They were trapped.

McGonagall looked at the spot where they stood and back at the parchment. “Unless,” she pondered. “Unless... Your father’s Cloak.”

Scorpius could hear Albus’s heart racing. She consulted the map again, then looked at them as though she could see them plainly. But to their surprise, she smiled to herself.

“Well, if I didn’t see you, I didn’t see you,” she said firmly. She turned and marched out of the Library, satisfied.

Albus pulled the cloak off and packed it away in his bag. “Yes, I stole this from James,” explained Albus. “He’s remarkably easy to steal from; his trunk combination is the date he got his first broom. I’ve also found the Cloak made avoiding bullies... easier.” Scorpius nodded understandingly. Albus continued, his voice heavy with guilt, “I’m sorry—about your mum. I know we don’t talk about her enough—but I hope you know—I’m sorry—it’s rubbish—what happened to her—to you.”

“Thanks,” said Scorpius, slightly uncomfortable but genuinely warmed.

Albus twiddled his thumbs, fumbling over his words. “My dad said—said that you were this dark cloud around me. My dad started to think—and I just knew I had to stay away or else Dad said he would—”

Scorpius’s heart sank. “Your dad believes the rumours?”

“He’s said he’s investigating. He’s gone completely off the deep end. He probably thinks you’re the son of Voldemort with how paranoid he’s being.”

Scorpius understood why Albus would want to keep this from him, but still wished he would have said something. As much as it hurt to know a man he revered was investigating humiliating rumours, a part of Scorpius thought perhaps a conclusive investigation might bring an end to the rumours. “Well, let him,” he said indignantly. “Maybe it’ll be nice to be able to tell everyone once and for all—”

“That you’re not Voldemort’s son? Don’t be ridiculous,” dismissed Albus. “Voldemort wouldn’t be capable of having a kind son, and you—Scorpius Malfoy—are kind. To the depths of your belly, to the tips of your fingers. And you don’t owe anyone any evidence to disprove such an asinine rumour.”

Scorpius smiled softly. “That’s nice—that’s a nice thing to say.”

“And it’s something I should have said a long time ago,” said Albus confidently. “And you don’t—you couldn’t—hold me back. You make me stronger—and when Dad forced us apart—without you—”

Scorpius felt his ears go hot. He said, “I didn’t much like my life without you in it either.”

“And I know I’ll always be Harry Potter’s son—and I will sort that out in my head—and I know compared to you my life is pretty good, really, and that he and I are comparatively lucky and—”

“Albus, as apologies go, this is wonderfully fulsome,” interrupted Scorpius, “but you’re starting to talk more about _you_ than _me_ again, so probably better to quit while you’re ahead.”

Albus smiled and stretched out his hand. “Friends?”

“Always,” agreed Scorpius, extending his hand for a shake. Albus grabbed Scorpius’s outreached hand and pulled him into a hug. Scorpius hugged him back, now reconciled with his best friend, and in that moment, a best friend was all he needed. As they separated, Scorpius laughed. “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

“That’s why I want to do this—why I want to go back,” said Albus, holding out the Time-Turner. “One last great adventure, you and me.”

Scorpius took back the Time-Turner and stared at it with doubt. “I’m still not sure about this.”

Albus grabbed him by the shoulders. “And then I’ll fight my dad if I have to. I won’t let him come between us again.”

Every iota of sense told Scorpius this was a terrible idea. But a small spark of adventure lit in his belly. The thought of reuniting with Albus to break some rules and help an old man appealed to an untapped instinct that only Albus could bring out of him. He looked up to Albus, who beamed at him excitedly and Scorpius melted.

“Ok,” agreed Scorpius with trepidation. “ _One_ last go. And then we destroy it.”

“Wicked!” Albus exclaimed, punching the air. “Do you have the letter?”

“No—Delphi has it,” Scorpius explained. “She’s waiting in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor.”

Albus chuckled, “Not where I was expecting this adventure to take us, but let’s go.” 

Scorpius pocketed the Time-Turner as Albus wrapped them once more in the Invisibility Cloak. Together, they headed to their next journey through time.


	36. Now or Never

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 17: Now or Never

Ron arrived at Hogwarts clutching a letter from Padma in his fist. Padma had an uncanny talent for explaining, in fine detail, how everything wrong with Paresh was entirely Ron’s fault. As such, it was his responsibility to reprimand Paresh whenever he got into trouble. After Ron and Padma separated over the summer, Ron spent a lot of time at Hogwarts scolding Paresh.

As he made his way up a flight of stairs, a figure walking down an adjacent staircase caught his eye. Hermione approached, but her nose was buried in one of three books that floated out in front of her as she twirled her wand in one hand and drank tea from the other. He stopped and stared a little too long, then managed to conjure some words despite the Billywigs buzzing violently from his throat to his belly.

“Professor Granger,” he called.

Hermione jumped at the sound of Ron’s voice. She stopped abruptly, and her books and wand fell to the floor.

“Ronald!” she said, failing to hide her excitement. She bent down to grab her wand only to find it in two halves. “Oh for Merlin’s sake—I’ve snapped my wand.”

Ron’s heart sank. “Terribly sorry, Hermione! I didn’t mean to startle you.” Thinking quickly, he reached into his robes and pulled out the ash wand he’d found on Albus in the Forbidden Forest. “Here—you can have this. Albus had it on him when we found him.”

He levitated the wand to her and she accepted it. “Well, that’s fortunate,” she said as she waved the new wand and the books flew into a neat pile in her arms. She then tucked the wand into her back pocket. “What brings you here?”

“Paresh got in trouble in Potions class,” Ron explained as he walked against the railing and grabbed hold. “Was showing off, of course, and put the wrong thing with the wrong thing and now he has no eyebrows and a rather large moustache, apparently. Which doesn’t suit him. I didn’t want to come but Padma says that when it comes to facial growths, sons need their fathers.” He smiled at Hermione, trying to find something else to talk about. “Have you done something with your hair?”

Confused and a little wary, Hermione reached up and checked her hair. “Just combed it, I suspect.”

“Well... Combing it suits you,” said Ron inexpertly.

Hermione gave him an awkward sort of smile, which turned into an awkward look of slight unease. “Ron, will you stop looking at me like that.”

Ron didn’t realise his face had gone dopey and he shook himself out of his gaze. A thought came to his mind and he took a moment to clear his throat as he summoned the confidence to voice it. “You know, Harry’s boy Albus—said to me the other day that he thought you and I were—married.” When Hermione did give the reaction he’d hoped for, he followed with a nervous laugh. “Ha-ha. Ha. Ha. Ridiculous, I know.”

“Very ridiculous,” agreed Hermione feebly as she took hold of her banister.

“He even thought we had a daughter. That’d be strange, wouldn’t it?” Ron half-joked. They locked eyes. They could see the idea settle in each other’s minds, and they liked it. Hermione broke away.

“More than strange,” she said, trying to compose herself.

“Exactly. We’re just friends,” he said, trying his best to sound perfectly fine. “That is—we are friends, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said definitively. She added with less certainty, “Only—friends.”

“Good—friends,” Ron rambled. “Funny word— _friends_. Not that funny. Just a word really. Friends. Friend. Funny friend. You, my funny friend, my Hermione. Not that—not my Hermione, you understand—not MY Hermione—not MINE—you know, but...”

“I know,” said Hermione softly.

Ron relaxed as he just stood, staring at Hermione as she stared back. He saw Hermione’s hands gripping the opposing railing. She didn’t seem so far away. He was sure he’d be able to reach across... and yet he couldn't will himself to move. He couldn’t so much as twitch. The slightest movement could cause Hogwarts to collapse under the weight of sadness and longing passing between them. Nothing but tense silence separated them as they each restrained themselves from reaching out, like two trains suspended in time moments before they could collide. He was surprised Hogwarts remained standing when Hermione finally spoke.

“Harry told me about you and Padma... that you were filing for divorce.”

“Right! My divorce,” said Ron, a little too excited. “I mean, yes it’s been very difficult lately, especially on Paresh.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Hermione sympathetically. “Paresh and I have actually gotten along really well.”

“Yes, I thought you might. He’s excited about learning, Paresh. Bit of a know-it-all, really.” He smiled faintly as the futility of their conversation set in. He knew what he wanted, but his chance had long since passed. For all he knew, she made no suggestion that the desire was mutual, and decided that to continue this torturous exchange would be in vain. “Actually, I should probably go sort Paresh out now. Teach him the finer arts of moustache grooming.”

“Yes, of course,” said Hermione, gathering her books. “It was nice seeing you again.”

“And you,” agreed Ron.

Hermione turned and continued her climb down the staircase and Ron continued upward, wishing he could run to her and confess... 

Hermione yelped. The books hit the stairs again. Ron whipped around and saw her, looking around, confused.

“Ronald?” she asked. 

Excitement filled him so quickly he could have sworn he’d been lifted into the air. “Yes, Hermione?” he asked.

She had difficulty getting the words out, unsure. Finally she asked, “Did you just... pinch my bottom?”

Ron was taken aback, in total bewilderment, certain he misunderstood the question. “I... what? From over here?”

Hermione sighed and scratched her head, slightly discombobulated. “Sorry, I could have sworn... how peculiar. I should probably get going.” She gathered her books again and, more hurriedly, made her way down the staircase. Ron watched her, shook his head, then continued on.


	37. Mischief and Peace

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 18: Mischief and Peace

Professor McGonagall rounded the desk in her office, looking discontent at the Marauder's Map sitting upon it. She gathered her convictions and tapped her wand decisively on the map. “Mischief managed,” she said with a satisfactory smile of a good decision well made. The drawings on the map faded away from the parchment and she tucked it away in her pocket.

Suddenly, she heard a low rumbling. The trinkets on her fireplace began to rattle as a fire burst from the logs. The flames turned green and out stumbled Ginny Potter, followed by Harry Potter, both trailed by a cloud of ash that settled on the headmistress’s carpet.

“Professor,” greeted Ginny, wiping the ash off her robes, “I can’t say that gets more dignified.”

“Potter. You’re back,” said Professor McGonagall with surprise and a little irritation. “And you seem to have finally ruined my carpet.”

Harry looked at her urgently. “I need to find my son. We need to.”

McGonagall shook her head. “Harry, I’ve considered this and decided I’ll no longer continue to have any part of it. I don’t feel—”

“Minerva, I understand,” said Harry.

McGonagall ignored him, determined to say her piece. “I just don’t think I can interfere in friendships and I believe—”

“I need to apologise for asking you to do such a thing,” said Harry humbly. “And I need to apologise to Albus, too. Will you give me that chance?”

The fireplace rumbled again and Draco Malfoy arrived in a cloud of soot.

“Draco?” puzzled McGonagall.

“He needs to see his son,” Draco explained, “and I need to see mine.”

Harry looked at her remorsefully and explained in earnest, “Professor, I just want to make peace—”

McGonagall studied his face; no inch of it suggested any intention to the contrary of the words he spoke. Satisfied with his sincerity, she withdrew the Marauder's Map and spread it out across her desk once again. “Well, peace is certainly something I can be part of.” She tapped her wand to the parchment and proclaimed (with a sigh), “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” Ginny, Harry, and Draco huddle around the map as it lit into action. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand to the names Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy. “Well, they are together.”

At once, they noticed the location of the boys, and each shared a look of disbelief.

“In the girls’ bathroom on the second floor,” puzzled Draco. “What on earth would they be doing there?”


	38. Out of Order

## Part 1 - Act 2

### Scene 19: Out of Order

The door to the out of order girls’ bathroom flew open seemingly of its own accord as the sound of laughter filled the room. Albus pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, revealing himself and Scorpius in a state of giggles.

“Were you trying to get Hermione to catch us?” Albus teased as he laid the cloak over a sink.

Scorpius brandished Cedric’s wand proudly. “I figured if we took Cedric’s wand back, we could prove we’re the ones who stole it.”

Delphi revealed herself from behind the large Victorian sink in the centre of the room. “Sounds like I missed a lot,” she mused.

“Have you been waiting this whole time?” Scorpius asked.

“Yes, but it’s not been so bad,” explained Delphi. “I’ve had Myrtle to keep me company.”

“Myrtle?” asked Scorpius, and then it dawned on him where exactly he was. “Of course—this is Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.”

A shrill, angry voice exploded throughout the bathroom. “What did you call me?” it cried. Suddenly, a jet of water erupted from the sink, followed by the bespectacled, pigtailed, 14-year-old ghost of Moaning Myrtle. She circled the bathroom before swooping down on Scorpius, fury and offence emanating from every inch of her spectral body. “Do I moan? Am I moaning now? AM I? AM I?”

Fear coursed through Scorpius. “No, I didn’t mean...” he muttered. Albus and Delphi tried to contain their laughter.

“What’s my name?” she demanded.

“Myrtle,” replied Scorpius.

“Exactly—Myrtle,” she repeated, cooling off. “Myrtle Elizabeth Warren—a pretty name—my name—no need for the moaning.” She turned her back to them and drifted away.

“Well...” sighed Scorpius, overwhelmed as Albus and Delphi snickered.

After a moment of drifting listlessly, Myrtle turned around, suddenly coy. “It’s been a while,” she giggled. “Boys. In my bathroom. In my girls’ bathroom. Well, that’s not right... But then again, I always did have a soft spot for the Potters. And I was moderately partial to a Malfoy too. You have your father's eyes, Potter. And you have...” Myrtle’s eyes grew wide as she looked to Scorpius. She floated towards him, glaring at his hands. “Oooh, now what do you have here?” she asked in a singsong voice.

Scorpius quickly tucked away the Time-Turner and explained innocently, “It’s nothing. Just an amulet.”

“Looks like a Time-Turner to me,” she said. “Now what trouble are you boys getting yourselves into?”

“We’re not doing anything,” Albus insisted.

Delphi stepped forward and said in her compelling congenial tone, “Myrtle, it’s been lovely spending time with you, but could you give me some privacy with the boys?”

Myrtle looked from Delphi to Albus and Scorpius and back again. Impossibly, Albus could have sworn he saw her translucent cheeks turn pink. She said, “I’ll just keep watch outside,” she giggled. “I’ll thank you to leave my bathroom as you found it...” 

Once Myrtle floated through the closed door, Albus turned to Delphi. “Do you have the letter?”

“Right here,” she said, whipping it playfully out of her pocket. “Are we ready to go?”

Albus and Scorpius shared a look. Albus began, “Actually, we were talking...”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” questioned Delphi.

“No! No, we still want to help Amos...” Albus trailed off, having difficulty getting the words out.

“We just thought we could do it together,” Scorpius explained. “Alone. Just the two of us.”

Delphi recoiled, stunned. She insisted, “But he’s my cousin. I want to see him again, too.”

Albus struggled to respond, finding it difficult to defy her. “Fair point—I get that—but the thing is...”

“But you’re not even wearing Hogwarts robes,” said Scorpius, thinking quickly. “And you’re a lot older than a student. You’ll stand out. It could cause problems.”

Myrtle’s head appeared sticking out of the wall. “I thought it may interest you to know that your fathers are coming.” she warned. She fluttered her eyebrows and added, “And my, have they gotten handsomer with time.” She disappeared again, giggling.

Albus looked at Scorpius urgently. “If we’re going, this is the time.”

“We have to go now,” Scorpius told Delphi, who looked highly offended. “I’m sorry you can’t come and we’re grateful for everything, but we need the letter.” He held out his hand but Delphi stepped back, clutching the letter tightly.

“No,” she insisted. “I have to go with you! We’re a team! A trio!”

“Scorpius...” urged Albus, who grabbed Scorpius’s arm.

Scorpius held out the Time-Turner, thinking hard. With or without the letter, getting caught together would be the end of them. And there was only one escape. “I’m sorry,” he told Delphi, who suddenly became enraged. She leapt forward to grab hold, but Scorpius quickly pressed down onto the Time-Turner and, in an instant, vanished.

Delphi could hear Myrtle outside talking to Harry and Draco. She was about to be caught. She looked around, and made a decisive run toward a large window, shattering it as she leapt through with abandon.

The door swung open. Harry barged in with a deep frown, followed by Draco, Ginny, Professor McGonagall, and Moaning Myrtle. 

“Albus... Albus...” Harry called out. He found the Invisibility Cloak and examined it as he tried to understand what Albus was up to.

Ginny looked around. “He’s gone,” she said.

Professor McGonagall consulted the map. “He’s disappeared. There one second and gone the next.”

Ginny rounded the Victorian sink and found the shattered window. Panic consumed her as she ran to look out of it and cried, “Harry!”

“No!” shouted Draco as he and Harry ran to the window themselves, looking down below for any trace of them. “Did they jump?” he asked.

“I don’t see anyone below,” Ginny said with the slightest bit of relief.

“The nerve!” spat Myrtle, outraged. “I told them and that girl not to disturb my bathroom!”

“Girl?” asked Harry. “What girl?”

“I didn’t catch her name,” Myrtle said calmly now that she was talking to Harry. “But she seemed ever so nice.”

“I didn’t notice any third person on the map,” McGonagall explained.

“Do you think they’ve gone to the Chamber of Secrets?” proposed Ginny.  
“It wouldn’t show up on the map.”

“I don’t think they’ve gone down _there_ ,” said Myrtle, eager to gossip. “But I did notice they happened to have a pretty little trinket...”

“Myrtle... what do you know?” asked Harry.

“Well,” she began, playing coy now that all attention was on her, “it looked to me like your sons were carrying around with them... a Time-Turner.”

Harry immediately understood what was happening, and it horrified him.

Ginny looked to Harry, concerned. “You don’t think he stole it—the Ministry’s Time-Turner?”

“The Ministry has a Time-Turner?” asked McGonagall in shock. “I thought they were destroyed?”

Myrtle giggled at the chaos. “Isn’t everyone so naughty?”

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Draco demanded.

“Albus and Scorpius didn’t disappear, they’re travelling,” Harry explained gravely. “Travelling in time.”

***

Light pulsed out from the Time-Turner as the world started to move around Albus and Scorpius. Slowly, they watched their past selves disappear under the Invisibility Cloak, then watched Delphi alone with Myrtle until Delphi exited (or, rather, entered in reverse), leaving Myrtle by herself. And then the movement sped up. Light filled and faded from the bathroom from the large windows as Myrtle was left alone, drifting listlessly, occasionally diving into sinks and toilets. Time moved faster and faster, so much so that Myrtle, already only partly visible, became an indistinguishable mist that covered the room. Occasionally, they would catch a blur of a student or house-elf visiting the bathroom, and only for a brief moment they caught a young Ron and Hermione opening the Chamber of Secrets. Time began to suffocate them as though they were travelling down a whirlpool, but incapable of moving.

At last, time stopped without warning, and Albus and Scorpius were thrown to the ground. The bathroom remained otherwise unoccupied, and twenty odd years younger.

“We made it!” cried Scorpius excitedly as the two got to their feet. “We only have five minutes and no letter. Any plans?”

“Well, first we need to figure out what time we made it too,” said Albus sensibly. He raised his hands to his mouth and called out, “Myrtle! Are you there?”

The sound of flushing came from one of the toilets as Myrtle appeared from the stalls. She observed her new visitors with curiosity. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? Shouldn’t you boys be down at the lake?”

“The lake?” asked Albus.

“For the second task,” she explained. “It’s about to start.”

Albus shared a look of surprise with Scorpius.

“We’re back at the Triwizard Tournament!” exclaimed Scorpius. “The second task—it’s in the lake!”

Albus threw his head back in frustration. “So we’ve made it, but we have no letter, and the whole school is at the lake.” Albus stroked his chin, calculating a plan as he walked to the window and looked down at the lake.

“Maybe we should just go back,” said Scorpius, defeated. “We tried. We lost—it’s what we do. There’s nothing we can do in five—four minutes.”

An idea occurred to Albus. He turned to Scorpius with daring in his eye. “Maybe there is.”

“Oh no,” fretted Scorpius. “The last time I saw that look in your eye we literally jumped off a moving train.”

“Cedric was just a spare, right?” began Albus. “That was Voldemort’s exact word. He didn’t _need_ to die.”

“Albus, what are you getting at?”

“The Time-Turner—it’s two-way. Last time we brought Cedric’s wand back with us. What if this time... we brought Cedric.” 

Albus smiled proudly at his plan but Scorpius did not share his enthusiasm. “I really don’t like the sound of this.”

Albus grabbed Scorpius by the shoulders. “You were right. I was being too selfish. This whole trip—I made it about me. But this is about more than just me. We can save someone’s _life_. Cedric was just a spare, so we won’t be doing anyone any harm by saving him—just the opposite, in fact. Then Delphi will get to see him too. This is real, big-time hero stuff.”

“Real big. I think this is way too big for us.”

Albus ignored him and walked over to Myrtle, who looked beyond confused at their conversation. “Myrtle, do you know any shortcuts to the lake?”

“I was just heading there myself,” she said, floating toward the Victorian sink. “This sink empties directly into the lake. It breaks every bylaw, but this school has always been antiquated. Dive in and you will be piped straight to it.”

“How long can you hold your breath?” Albus asked Scorpius, who looked positively terrified. Albus pointed his wand into the sink. “ _Dissendium_!” The sink’s drain enlarged enough to accommodate an overzealous 14-year-old boy. Albus started stripping out of his robes until he was left with only his Gryffindor undershirt and pants.

“Albus, I would like to go on record as saying this is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.” Despite his misgivings, Scorpius joined Albus as he disrobed down to his Slytherin-coloured underclothing.

“Noted,” Albus said.

“Tell me this is all going to be okay,” Scorpius insisted, filled with worry.

Albus looked Scorpius dead in the eye and grinned his most agreeable grin. “It’s all going to be entirely okay. Are you ready?”

Scorpius tried his best to convince himself to quit, but instead, he nodded his head. Albus held his nose and jumped into the sink.

“Oooh, everyone loves brave boys,” giggled Myrtle.

Scorpius gulped and gathered his nerve. He said, a little bit scared and a tiny bit brave, “Then I’m entirely ready. For whatever comes.” He held his nose and followed Albus down the drain into possible heroism and certain danger.


	39. The Two Spares

## Part 1 - Act 2 

### Scene 20: The Two Spares

Scorpius slid down the pipe, faster, faster, and ever downward into total darkness. Albus squealed with joy, laughing all the while. Scorpius didn’t so much as squeal as he did whimper. The slide bit itself was quite fun, it was the giant lake of water they were heading towards that concerned him.

Meanwhile, the bombastic voice of Ludo Bagman bounced around the pipe as he amplified his voice from the stadium on the lake.

“Ladies and gentlemen—boys and girls—I give you— the greatest—the fabulous—the one—and the only—TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT. If you’re from Hogwarts, give me a cheer.”

Cheers rang out from the crowd. 

“If you’re from Durmstrang—give me a cheer.”

More cheering rumbled, every bit as enthusiastic, but less abundant.

“AND IF YOU’RE FROM BEAUXBATONS GIVE ME A CHEER.”

The distinct cheer of the Beauxbatons students, this time, at least, making an attempt at enthusiasm, echoed throughout the pipe.

“The French are getting into this.”

A cannon sounded, followed by cheering. The next thing he knew, Scorpius submerged into the freezing waters of the Great Lake. He tried to stabilise himself, tossing around uncontrollably in the water. He felt Albus reaching out to help, and once he had his bearings, he nodded and the two swam onward.

Muffled and distant, they could hear Bagman’s commentating. “And they’re off... Viktor’s a shark, of course he is, Fleur looks remarkable, ever plucky Harry is using Gillyweed, clever Harry, very clever—and Cedric—well, Cedric, what a treat, ladies and gentlemen, Cedric is using a Bubble Charm to cruise through the lake.”

Not long after submerging, Albus pointed into the distance as he caught sight of Cedric. He and Scorpius tried to swim over, but Scorpius began to struggle. He didn’t have time to take in air. He felt his legs lose the energy to peddle, he felt pressure squeeze his throat. Albus threw an arm around him and used his other to wave Cedric down. Using the last of his own breath, Albus tried to call out through the water.

“What’s this?” came Bagman’s voice as Scorpius found another arm around him and began to ascend. “It appears Cedric has taken a detour to help two strays who wandered out too far into the lake.”

A flash of light filled the lake. Again, Scorpius was pulled through time, though this trip was far more excruciating as he travelled mid-drowning. Finally, he broke the surface and took in a huge gasp of air. Next to him he saw his saviour, Cedric Diggory, very much alive. Unable to help himself, he shouted out in excitement. “Woooo-hooooo! You’re alive! We did it!”

Cedric yelled. “My arm!” he grunted, terrified and in pain. “Who are you? What happened? What did you do?”

“We just saved your life!” he explained. “Albus! Where are you?” He looked around. Albus still hadn’t emerged. He trod the water, ducking under and coming back up again. Albus was nowhere to be seen. He panicked, looking around desperately, calling out, “Albus... ALBUS... ALBUS.”

“My arm!” Cedric cried again, having difficulty staying afloat. “I think it’s broken! I can’t swim!”

“I got you,” said Scorpius as he grabbed hold of him and tried to help him ashore. He continued to call out, “Albus! Where are you?” No answer.

Something wasn’t right. The sky had a sickly green tint and the clouds swirled around Hogwarts in a most menacing manner. The castle itself looked more severe, with parts of it in total collapse, and other parts adorned with green banners with a depiction of a snake in the shape of a V piercing a skull. Unintelligible whispers hissed in the air as shadowy creatures floated throughout the grounds.

A shrill, unfamiliar voice cut across the water. “Scorpius Malfoy.” Scorpius looked to the shore and saw a stout woman wearing violent pink robes and a most severe expression. “Get out of the lake. Get out of the lake. Right now.” She pointed her stubby wand at him and immediately, he and Cedric were pulled rapidly across the water and landed on the shore with Cedric howling in agony.

“Miss. I need help,” pleaded Scorpius, overwhelmed and terrified. “Please, Miss.”

“Miss?” scoffed the woman as though the word was a most vulgar insult. “How dare you disrespect your headmistress? You will address me as Professor Umbridge.”

Cedric got to his feet, failing to understand what was happening. “Headmistress? Owwww.” He gripped his arm as it ached from the uncomfortable position it fell into when he landed. “Where’s Professor Dumbledore?”

“Long dead,” said Umbridge plainly. “And do stop your incessant whinging. It grows thin on my nerves. Who are you? I don’t recognise you as one of my students.”

Scorpius understood immediately that bringing Cedric back had caused time to change, but he was so consumed with trying to find Albus that he didn’t take the time to process the new, more dangerous world he found himself in.

“He’s Cedric Diggory,” Scorpius explained. “And there’s someone else in the lake—I need you to get help. I’m looking for my friend, Miss. Professor. Headmaster. One of Hogwarts’s students, Miss. I’m looking for Albus Potter.”

Umbridge looked at Scorpius with such indignation that her wrinkled face turned a shade quite similar to her gaudy garb. “Do you take me for a fool? Cedric Diggory has been missing for decades.” She turned to Cedric angrily as he continued to grunt through his pain. “Stop that moaning now, boy.”

Cedric looked to her with desperation. “My arm. Please. I think it’s broken.”

Umbridge sighed, smiled, and said in a friendly tone, “Well, I can fix that up nicely for you.” She raised her wand and swiped it sharply through the air.

Cedric reached for his throat as colour faded from his face. He fell to his knees, blood seeping through his fingers, before falling to his side with a _thud_.

Scorpius dropped to Cedric’s side, his hands quivering, his breath trembling. He held Cedric’s head and his broken arm, unable to do anything of use but bring him comfort in his final seconds. Tears crept into Scorpius’s eyes as Cedric sputtered his last breath.

Scorpius looked to Umbridge, feeling, for the first time, true hatred. “You killed him! You monster!”

“I have had quite enough of your insubordination, Malfoy,” said Umbridge shortly, unperturbed by the dead student at her feet. “I don’t care how important your family is—I have half a mind to lock you up with the Mudbloods. I find you dilly dallying in the lake, you disrespect me, and of all the tales you say you’ve found Cedric Diggory, and that some such student named Albus Potter is in the lake too. The cheek.”

“It’s true!” he demanded.

“There hasn’t been a Potter at this school for years, and _he_ didn’t turn out so well. Got what he deserved if you ask me. Total troublemaker. So you will do well not to end up on my naughty list.”

“Harry Potter’s dead?” he asked, and the horror of the world his actions wrought came to light.

A chilling wind brushed past him that brought with it dread and gloom. The shadows swarming the grounds moved in and the decrepit, hooded Dementors became plainly visible. The wind carried a whisper that rang out through the grounds: _Haaarry Pottttter._ It was as though Harry’s name was cursed and set off an alarm. 

“Have you swallowed something funny in there?” asked Umbridge. “Harry Potter died over twenty years ago as part of a failed coup on the school—he was one of those Dumbledore terrorists we bravely overthrew at the Battle of Hogwarts. Now come along—you’ve been disorderly for long enough. I will have to ban you from this evening’s Voldemort Day celebrations.”

“Voldemort day?” Scorpius looked up at the castle, with the banners flying in the wind.

Harry Potter was dead. Voldemort was triumphant. Albus had never been born. The world had fallen to darkness.


	40. Voldemort and Valour

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 1: Voldemort and Valour

Nowhere was safe. Even Scorpius’s own private thoughts endangered him. His only saving grace was his surname: Malfoy. He belonged to a family of Voldemort’s most loyal followers, so no one questioned his actions, at least to his face.

Rumours spread throughout the school about how Scorpius had changed since washing up from the lake with the corpse of Cedric Diggory. The Scorpius he found himself now to be had an entire reputation unfamiliar to him. People feared him and respected him and found it odd when he asked questions about Harry Potter. 

Hogwarts life was violent and inhospitable. Dark wizards taught his lessons, though they were mainly anti-Muggle propaganda, revisionist history lectures, and lessons on Dark Arts. There were no longer any houses, and with Gryffindor tower in ruins, there were fewer beds than students, leaving many to sleep on benches in the hallways or on the floor next to fireplaces. Every day was a test of his principles. Voldemort’s regime was severe and unforgiving, and Scorpius had to be just as severe to avoid suspicion. But he could never bring himself to hurt or bully, which was a widespread practise, particularly by the so-called Scorpion King.

Scorpius tried to keep a low profile and blend in to this new world, but his apparent celebrity made it difficult. Students always looked his way when he walked by. Wizards visited him daily to make sure he wasn’t damaged after returning from the lake. 

After three days of hell, Headmistress Umbridge called Scorpius to her office. Of all of Voldemort’s loyalists, Professor Umbridge was a breed of her own. Scorpius had seen wizards who supported Voldemort out of their hatred of Muggles, out of Pureblood supremacy, or out of being brainwashed into his ideologies. He’d seen supporters who lusted for power, parasites who wanted to claim a fraction of his glory, and the weak-willed and dimwitted who followed him out of the sole need for a leader. But Umbridge followed him not out of power or glory or ideology, but purely out of respect for his authority, and the ways it helped her exercise her own wicked and cruel ends.

Scorpius entered Umbridge’s office with caution. Her decor of choice seemed entirely contrary to her demeanour, preferring pinks and polka dots and frills and florals and an exceptional amount of feline memorabilia. Her office was equal parts tacky and terrifying, as students who entered her office seldom left without being physically or emotionally wounded.

She sat at her desk, looking officious, and smiled at Scorpius. “Scorpius. Thank you so much for coming to see me.” Her voice chilled him. She spoke in a high tone that sounded sweet and girly, but he knew too well the horrific things her saccharine voice said without pause. 

“Headmistress,” greeted Scorpius, taking a seat in front of her.

“Scorpius, I’ve thought for a long time that you have Head Boy potential, as you know. Pure-blooded, a natural leader, talented athlete...”

“Athlete?” Scorpius asked, somehow finding that one of the more absurd ways he’d been described in this alternate reality.

“No need to be modest, Scorpius. I’ve seen you on the Quidditch pitch, there’s rarely a Snitch you didn’t catch.” Umbridge then giggled, which felt somewhat infuriating. “You are a highly valued student. Valued by the faculty. Valued especially by me. I’ve positively glowed about you in dispatches to the Augurey. Our work together flushing out the more dilettante students has made this school a safer, purer place—”

“Has it?” he asked. He didn’t like the idea that some version of him helped participate in what Hogwarts had become.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from the distance. Scorpius turned toward it, but dismissed the thought. Suppressing his more sympathetic impulses was imperative to his survival.

Umbridge continued, “But after your little stunt in the lake, and the three days since, I’ve noticed you behaving very oddly. Very disorderly. I’m starting to believe I was wrong about you.”

“No. You weren’t,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

“A bit confused?” she asked, sympathetically. “Why, you’ve been pestering everyone about the Battle of Hogwarts. Asking questions about how Harry Potter died. How Dumbledore died. Granted, as it turns out, you were correct about finding Cedric Diggory in the lake—goodness knows how he ended up there—but your behaviour leaves much to be desired. Scorpius, we’ve checked you for hexes and curses—there were none we can see—so I’m asking you if there’s anything I can do—to restore you to what you were...”

“No. No. Consider me restored.” His voice had gone slightly singsong, which he realised didn’t help his cause. He cleared his throat and spoke in a deeper, placid voice. “Temporary aberration. That’s all.”

“So we can continue our work together without any more of your little episodes?” she asked, with a subtle tone of warning.

“We can,” he agreed.

Umbridge made a theatrical sigh of relief and smiled as she made a sort of salute by crossing her wrists. “For Voldemort and Valour,” she chanted.

Scorpius awkwardly tried to copy her gesture. “For—um—yes.”


	41. Reign of the Scorpion King

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 2: Reign of the Scorpion King

The next morning, an owl delivered Scorpius the _Daily Prophet_ (apparently wizards had been attacking Muggles for sport) and a letter from his father requesting a meeting. An Auror awaited him at Hogsmeade to transport him to the Ministry of Magic. He was frightened to see what Draco Malfoy had become in Voldemort’s regime, and part of him worried seeing his father at Voldemort’s command would spoil his own memories of him. 

As he stepped out onto the grounds on his way to Hogsmeade, Karl Jenkins greeted him with an enthusiastic, and painful, high-five.

“Hey, Scorpion King,” he said.

Yann Fredericks crept toward him after Karl with a greedy, sycophantic look on his face. “Have you made your decision, Mr. Malfoy? I mean Scorpion King? You said you would sleep on it. And... well the Blood Ball’s tomorrow night, sir, and I would be honoured to be part of your group.”

Voldemort Day turned out to be the start of a week-long celebration that culminated in the Blood Ball, an event Scorpius knew little about but nevertheless had little intention of attending.

“Might as well bring him along,” advised Karl with machismo. “The more people to spill Mudblood guts with, the better if you ask me.”

“I... yes, I guess so,” agreed Scorpius, looking warily at his new friends. Scorpius had always wondered what it would be like to be popular, but having Karl as his muscles and Yann as his lackey wasn’t anything near to what he imagined.

“Look out,” said Karl, “here comes pitiful Polly Chapman.”

Polly approached, looking gaunt and terrified. She gripped her shoulder nervously as she dragged her feet, unable to look anyone in the eye.

“H—hello, sir,” she whimpered. “Scorpius. Scorpion King.”

“Polly? Are you alright?” asked Scorpius, concerned.

“Y—yes,” she mumbled, dodging Scorpius’s attempts at eye contact. “And I’m sorry I said I wouldn’t go with you to the Blood Ball. I’ve learnt my lesson now. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way. So if you want me to go with you, I—I’ll go.”

Karl chuckled under his breath.

Scorpius looked at her, amazed. “You—Polly Chapman—want me to take you to a—ball?”

“Yes, sir. Scorpion King,” she agreed, trying to sound convincing. “Whatever you command.”

Another scream echoed through the grounds. Polly winced. Scorpius turned to the school as though he expected to see someone under attack.

“What is that screaming?” he asked.

“The Muggleborns—I mean Mudbloods,” explained Polly. “In the dungeons. They were your idea, weren’t they?”

Karl laughed. “Sounds like someone’s decided to have a little fun with them before tomorrow night. So are you taking Chapman or what?”

Polly finally managed to meet Scorpius’s eyes. Anticipation and fear swam in her eyes. Scorpius knew what the Scorpion King would do, but he couldn’t bring himself to affect the role.

“Erm... no, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Polly.”

Polly’s body trembled as she all but broke down in relief. “Thank you,” she said, holding back tears. “Thank you.” 

She ran off excitedly, nearly tripping over herself. Karl looked at him in disbelief, while Yann praised him. “Good decision, Mr. Malfoy. She’s only a half-blood. You deserve better.”

Scorpius forced a smile and continued onward to Hogsmeade, ready to confront his father.


	42. All Was Wrong

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 3: All Was Wrong

There was no subtlety to Voldemort’s influence in the Ministry of Magic. For one, a permanent, gigantic Dark Mark was cast over London and obscured the sun, dousing the city in green light. The streets of Whitehall were filled with statues of Muggles with blank, unfeeling expressions. It turned out that these statues were actually living Muggles who had been subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss, slowly waiting for death to take them. The telephone box that visitors previously used to enter the Ministry was replaced by a skip engraved with the depiction of a serpent. As instructed, Scorpius stuck his finger into the serpent's mouth and it bit down quickly, drawing blood. When the serpent was satisfied with the purity of Scorpius’s blood, the lid to the skip opened, requiring Scorpius and his Auror escort to climb in.

The Auror greeted Scorpius as an old friend, though Scorpius didn’t recognise his voice and was too nervous to ask. The man’s face was obscured by a Death Eater’s mask, in fact, all Auror uniforms were an armoured variant of Death Eater’s robes. As he led Scorpius into the Ministry, it became apparent that the Auror’s purpose was less of a guide, and more of a guard. A duel had broken out in the atrium before they had arrived. Spells bounced across the room, hitting windows and statues and bystanders who didn’t have the sense to put up a Shield Charm. It appeared to be such a common practise that they didn’t even draw a crowd of onlookers—everyone simply went about their business. Dementors flew overhead, dousing the room in cold air and misery. Snakes slithered across the floor and up pillars. Muggleborns were dragged through the ministry, kicking and screaming.

At the centre of the atrium, replacing the Fountain of Magical Unity, stood a statue of a wizard standing on a plinth of Muggles that read “Magic is Might.” Voldemort’s banners flew throughout the building, along with a red one depicting the silhouette of some sort of fantastical bird. Wanted posters hung all through the atrium, many of whom Scorpius recognised as those who fought against Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione Granger had the largest bounty, being not only a high-ranking member of the resistance, but a Mudblood to boot.

A man with sharp teeth and grizzled features lunged at Scorpius, but the Auror knocked back the assailant with a curse that covered him in blisters. The Auror rushed Scorpius along and up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He arrived at the Head Office, with Draco Malfoy’s name inscribed on the door. The Auror stood guard as Scorpius pushed open the door.

Draco Malfoy stood with his back to Scorpius, looking out over the chaos in the atrium. He emanated a power and dominance that startled Scorpius. Even his voice was deeper and more imposing.

“You are late,” he said crossly.

“This is your office?” asked Scorpius. He had not had the pleasure of witnessing what the office of the Head if the Department of Magical Law Enforcement looked like when it was ran by Harry Potter, but he imagined it wasn’t filled with as many dark artifacts. A complex and disorganised chart tracking the movements of the resistance hung on the wall, along with more bird-emblazoned banners.

“You are late and unapologetic,” he said as he turned his reprehensive gaze onto his son, “maybe you are determined to compound the problem.”

“You’re Head of Magical Law Enforcement?” he asked.

“How dare you!” spat Draco. Scorpius looked away. A darkness swam in his father’s eyes that he’d hoped never to see. “How dare you embarrass me and keep me waiting and then not apologise for it!”

“Sorry,” he offered quickly. 

“ _Sir_ ,” corrected Draco.

“Sorry, sir,” repeated Scorpius, with a touch more sarcasm than to Draco’s liking.

Draco walked toward him dangerously, but stopped at his desk. He laid his hands down on top of it and loomed over Scorpius for several severe silent seconds. “I did not bring you up to be sloppy, Scorpius. I did not bring you up to humiliate me at Hogwarts.”

“Humiliate you, sir?”

“Harry Potter,” explained Draco, as though it pained him to say the words, “asking questions about Harry Potter, of all the embarrassing things. How dare you disgrace the Malfoy name?“

Scorpius’s eyes fell on his dad’s desk, where a number of reports of attacks were strewn across it. “Oh no,” he gasped. “Are you responsible? No. No. You can’t be.”

“Scorpius...” warned Draco.

Scorpius picked up some of the documents and examined them closer. Disgust filled his stomach. “The _Daily Prophet_ today—three wizards blowing up bridges to see how many Muggles they can kill with one blast—is that you?”

“Be very careful,” Draco commanded through gritted teeth.

“The ‘Mudblood’ death camps, the torture, the burning alive of those that oppose him. How much of that is you?” Scorpius studied his father’s increasingly irate face, trying desperately to find a hint of humanity in him—the tiniest indication of remorse, or even the knowledge that the world was not better off with Voldemort in power. “Mum always told me that you were a better man than I could see, but this is what you really are, isn’t it? A murderer, a torturer, a—”

Draco grabbed Scorpius by the collar and pulled him hard across the table. “Do not use her name in vain, Scorpius,” he said with a venom beyond anger. “Do not score points that way. She deserves better than that.”

Scorpius kept quiet, terror etched in his face at his father’s sudden violence. Then he saw what he was looking for: remorse. Draco released Scorpius, his voice calmer (yet not apologetic).

“And no, those idiots blasting Muggles, that’s not my doing, though it’ll be me the Augurey asks to bribe the Muggle Prime Minister with gold...”

Scorpius had heard Umbridge use the term ‘Augurey’, but he didn’t quite understand its significance. From what he knew, an Augurey was a type of phoenix-like bird native to Ireland, but it appeared to be the title of whoever was in charge of the Ministry, hence the bird banners.

“Did your mother really say that of me?” Draco asked with sudden earnest.

Scorpius smiled. Talking about his mother was the one thing that never failed to bring them together. “She said that Grandfather didn’t like her very much—opposed the match—thought she was too Muggle-loving—too weak—but that you defied him for her. She said it was the bravest thing she’d ever seen.”

“She made being brave very easy, your mother,” said Draco, as he took as seat at his desk. Scorpius took the seat opposite him.

“But that was—another you,” said Scorpius, looking to his dad, who looked back with a frown. Perhaps there was a chance that the father who raised him was still somewhere inside this version of Draco Malfoy. “I’ve done bad things, you’ve done worse. What have we become, Dad?”

“We haven’t become anything—we simply are as we are,” he replied bleakly. 

Scorpius swallowed Draco’s words with difficulty. It seemed in every version of reality, his family failed to escape notoriety. “The Malfoys,” he lamented. “The family you can always count on to make the world a murkier place.”

Draco looked stricken by his son’s bleak words, then asked, “This business at the school—what’s inspired it?”

“I don’t want to be who I am,” Scorpius replied.

“And what’s brought that on?” Draco asked.

Scorpius considered his answer carefully. He couldn’t very well say that this world should never have been—that Voldemort should never have won. This version of his father was so closely allied to Voldemort... if Scorpius explained that he possessed a Time-Turner (albeit, a dysfunctional one), it could compromise his mission to undo what changes he’s made. But he wanted to tell his father that he’d seen the world where Voldemort was defeated, where Albus lived, and where Draco atoned for his crimes, and it was good. Finally, he decided, “I’ve seen myself in a different way.”

Draco smiled. “You know what I loved most about your mother? She could always help me find the light in the darkness. She made the world—my world anyway—less—what was the word you used—‘murky.’”

“Did she?”

“There’s more of her in there than I thought,” said Draco, as he studied Scorpius carefully, as though he were trying to practise Legilimency on him. “Whatever you’re doing, do it safely. I can’t lose you too.”

“Yes,” replied Scorpius as he stood. He nodded and added, “Sir.”

Draco stood to see him out, studying him again, but apparently lost for an explanation. “For Voldemort and Valour,” said Draco with a half-hearted sense of obligation.

“For Voldemort and Valour,” repeated Scorpius glumly as he backed out of the room.


	43. Homework in Hell

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 4: Homework in Hell

When Scorpius returned to Hogwarts, he headed directly to the Library, determined to figure out how to set things right. He scavenged the bookshelves, pulling every book that might have information he could use and piled them on a table. He folded open the largest of the books and flipped through it.

“Time-Turners... Time-Turners...” he said to himself as he skimmed through the pages, “how do I fix a Time-Turner to take me back exactly when I need it to?”

“Why are you here?” Craig Bowker Jr. appeared from behind a bookshelf, over encumbered with books and parchments. His clothes were ragged and torn and his eyes were heavy and weak.

“Why can’t I be here?” asked Scorpius.

“It’s not ready yet. I’m working as fast as I can,” said Craig desperately. “But Professor Snape sets so much of it, and writing the essay in two different ways. I mean, I’m not complaining... Sorry." He bowed his head, scared and ashamed.

“Start again,” said Scorpius calmly. “From the beginning. What’s not ready?”

“Your Potions homework,” explained Craig, gathering his nerve. “And I’m happy to do it—grateful even—and I know you hate homework and books and I never let you down, you know that.”

“I hate homework?” said Scorpius as though it was the most absurd thing to have learnt about the Scorpion King yet.

“You’re the Scorpion King. Of course you hate homework,” said Craig. 

Scorpius returned to his book, ignoring Craig. He flipped through the pages, looking for the section on time magic.

“What are you doing with _Encyclopedia Magika_?” Craig asked, now reading over Scorpius’s shoulders. “Is it for History of Magic? I could do that assignment too?”

Scorpius sighed and gave Craig an annoyed look. Taking the hint, Craig turned to leave. He didn’t much like being the Scorpion King, but it came in handy when he wanted privacy. When he was by himself, something Craig had said gave Scorpius a thought. If he heard correctly, perhaps there was someone, after all, who could help.

“Did he just say Snape?” he asked himself, as hope began to return to him.


	44. The King and The Prince

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 5: The King and The Prince

Scorpius made his way through the school at a brisk walk, trying his best not to run and attract attention, but too excited to get to the dungeons. Harry Potter had made sure that Severus Snape’s participation in Voldemort’s downfall was common knowledge. If Snape still lived, it could only mean that Voldemort never learnt about Snape betraying him for years, which meant perhaps Snape would be willing to help Scorpius set time back to the way it should be.

As he descended the staircase into the Dungeons, he picked up speed until he was at a full run as he reached the Potions classroom, entered it, and slammed the door behind him. 

Professor Snape turned to look at the intruder. He was more wrinkled and grey than his portraits portrayed, but his expression was every bit as surly, his nose just as hooked, and his hair just as long and greasy.

“Did no one teach you to knock, boy?” he asked in his sluggish monotone.

Scorpius stared at him slightly breathless, slightly unsure, and slightly exultant. “Severus Snape. This is an honour.”

“Professor Snape will do fine,” he said irritably. “You may behave like a king at this school Malfoy, but that doesn’t make us all your subjects.”

Scorpius smiled and moved closer. “But you’re the answer...”

“How very pleasant for me,” Snape replied with thick irony.

“I need your help,” pleaded Scorpius.

“I exist to serve,” bemoaned Snape.

“I just don’t know what help I—need,” he admitted. Now with a potential ally, Scorpius was unsure of what steps to take. In fact, he was unsure if Snape could be trusted at all. “Are you still undercover now? Are you still working secretly for Dumbledore?”

“Dumbledore? Dumbledore’s dead,” Snape said blankly. “And my work for him was public—I taught in his school.”

“No. That’s not all you did.” Scorpius lowered his voice, and recanted as though they were sharing secrets, “You watched the Death Eaters for him. You advised him. Everyone thought you’d murdered him—but it turned out you’d been supporting him. You saved the world.”

If this struck a chord with Snape, it did not show. Instead, he looked annoyed, if anything. “These are very dangerous allegations, boy. And don’t think the Malfoy name will prevent me inflicting punishment.”

Scorpius planned his words carefully. “What if I was to tell you there was another world—another world in which Voldemort was defeated at the Battle of Hogwarts, in which Harry Potter and Dumbledore’s Army and the Order of the Phoenix won, how would you feel then...”

“I’d say that the rumours of Hogwarts’s beloved Scorpion King losing his mind are well-founded.”

Scorpius realised he wouldn’t be able to convince Snape to give up his deepest secret with hypotheticals alone. After all, Snape had to be convincing in his role in order to fool even Voldemort. With trepidation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Time-Turner. To this, Snape reacted.

“There was a stolen Time-Turner,” Scorpius explained. “I stole a Time-Turner. With Albus Potter. We used it to bring Cedric Diggory back in time with us, to stop him from being killed. I told Albus it was a stupid idea—and I should have stopped him—but he’s too noble for his own good.”

Snape’s eyes grew wide as he observed the Time-Turner. “That would explain how Diggory’s body mysteriously washed up on our shore.”

“That was me! Well... us. Me and Albus. We saved Cedric, but lost Albus. And then Professor Umbridge killed Cedric anyway. I need to go back and fix things, but the Time-Turner doesn’t work properly. I can’t choose when exactly to go back, and I don’t need to cause any more ripples in history.”

Snape looked at him carefully, trying to absorb the information. “How am I to know this isn’t some trick to make a fool of me? Give me one reason I shouldn’t alert your father and plunge you into deep trouble.”

Scorpius searched his memory for some sort of evidence, some sort of private knowledge to prove his case. Harry had kept private any secrets he learnt about Snape. The only thing he would divulge publicly was that Snape chose to side with Dumbledore because he believed in the power of love more than the power of Dark Magic. Scorpius steeled his nerve and played his final, desperate card.

“Albus. Severus. Potter. That was the name Harry Potter gave his son—my best friend. He named him after the two men who sacrificed everything to take down Voldemort. And even though everyone knew how cruel you were to Harry, he still insisted that your legacy lived on. He made sure everyone knew you gave your life to stop Voldemort once and for all.”

Snape looked at him warily. He looked at a loss, not fully convinced he wasn’t being tricked, but nevertheless compelled. “You mean to tell me that I...”

“Died. Yes. Valliantly. And I know that might not sound like an appealing fate... but _please_ , sir.” Scorpius started to shake. His heart started to thud. He couldn’t look Snape in the eye, as his own began to fill with tears. “I can’t live in a world ruled by Voldemort. I can’t live without Albus... I love him. And I know he doesn’t feel the same way, but I would still do anything to save him. I beg you, I need your help. I need to fix my mistake.”

Scorpius fell to his knees, choking back tears. Snape stepped toward Scorpius. Scorpius scrambled to his feet as Snape pulled his wand from his robes. Scorpius stepped back, scared, as Snape raised his wand.

“ _Colloportus_!” A spell fired from Snape’s wand at the door, slamming onto it an invisible lock. He walked to the back of the classroom toward a shelf of ingredients and twisted one of the phials. The shelf clicked and receded into the wall, revealing a secret hatch underneath. “Well, come on, then...”

Scorpius followed him, eager and hopeful. “You’ll help me?”

Snape nodded, holding open the latch. “I don’t know much about Time-Turners, but I know someone who might. We must go to them. And we mustn't be seen.”

Scorpius looked down the secret passage at the ladder that descended into darkness. “Just a question, but where—exactly—are we going?”

“We’ve had to move many times. Everywhere we’ve settled they destroyed. This will take us to the Whomping Willow, the roots of which conceal a secret passage to our base of operation. Now let’s move.”

Scorpius lit his wand and climbed down the ladder, followed by Snape who concealed the entrance. They walked carefully down the muddy passage until it deposited them in the Forbidden Forest, near where Albus and Scorpius had travelled back to the first task. 

Cloaked in twilight, they made their way through the trees to the Whomping Willow, which thrashed its limbs around as they approached. Snape raised his wand and with it, sent a sharp rock flying toward a knot in the tree. The limbs settled, and revealed an opening beneath its roots. Snape led Scorpius into the secret passage, to the headquarters of the resistance.


	45. Remnants of the Resistance

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 6: Remnants of the Resistance

At the end of the long and winding passage, a light shone through wooden planks in the ceiling. Scorpius pushed up on them, and climbed out through what appeared to be the floorboards of a rundown and dilapidated house. He didn’t get a good look at it, however, as almost immediately after stepping foot into the room, he felt his wand fly out of his hands, followed by his body being flung hard onto a table.

Hermione Granger pinned him down, her eyes blazing with danger. Her hair had been tied back and her clothes were pale and worn. She was as intimidating as she was impressive, and it rather suited her.

“You make one more move and your brain will be a frog and your arms will be rubber.”

Her voice was hoarse and effectively threatening; Scorpius felt his body go completely rigid, though not through any magical means.

“Safe. He’s safe,” said Snape as he climbed out of the secret passage. Hermione didn’t let up, in fact, she continued to watch Scorpius as though he was the Dark Lord himself. Snape sighed. “You know you never could listen. You were a terrible bore of a student and now you’re a terrible bore of—whatever you are.”

“I was an excellent student,” Hermione corrected him matter-of-factly, not breaking her gaze from Scorpius.

“You were moderate to average,” said Snape pointedly. “He’s on our side!”

“I am, Hermione!” insisted Scorpius.

Slowly, Hermione relented. He staggered to his feet as Hermione continued to stare him down distrustfully.

“Most people know me as Granger. And I don’t trust a word you say, Malfoy—”

“It’s all my fault,” Scorpius tried to explain, frazzled. “My fault. And Albus’s.”

“Albus?” puzzled Hermione. “Albus Dumbledore? What’s Albus Dumbledore got to do with this?”

“He doesn’t mean Dumbledore,” Snape said. “You may need to sit down.”

Confused and unconvinced, she reluctantly took a seat just as Ron nonchalantly entered the room. His hair was spiked and his clothes were edgier, although his countenance was not any more intimidating (despite his best efforts).

“Snape, a royal visit,” he greeted, before turning his attention to the young Malfoy in the room, “and—” his eyes widened, alarmed, and he fumbled to find his wand and pointed it at Scorpius threateningly. “I’m armed and—entirely dangerous and seriously advice you—” He noticed he was pointing his wand the wrong way around and flipped it in his hand, trying to maintain a semblance of danger, “to be very careful—”

Snape rolled his eyes. “He’s safe, Ron.”

Ron looked to Hermione, who took a second to decide if she could trust a Malfoy. She nodded and Ron lowered his wand. “Thank Dumbledore for that,” he said, leaning against the wall as the three of them looked to Scorpius for an explanation.

Scorpius took out the Time-Turner, explaining how he and Albus used it to change the past. He found himself constantly having to deviate to smaller explanations, as the events in their worlds had changed quite dramatically, revelations like Harry and Ginny having three children warranted new explanations.

When Scorpius explained that the Time-Turner wasn’t fully functional, Hermione’s apprehension seemed to fade away as she relished the opportunity to throw herself into a project. Ron, on the other hand, had a difficult time letting go that Harry had children with Ginny.

Finally, Scorpius had found hope that he would be able to bring back the light once and for all.


	46. The Shrieking Shack

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 7: The Shrieking Shack

A chilling breeze and dangerous creaking filled the Shrieking Shack. Though Ron insisted they had placed every magical enchantment on it they could think of, Scorpius still felt dangerously exposed. Hermione sat at a desk, studying the Time-Turner closely, casting one spell after another onto it. Ron continued to probe Scorpius for more information, now thoroughly convinced, and simply curious about the other world.

“So you’re telling me that boy they found at the lake was Cedric Diggory?” wondered Ron with amazement. “Blimey, I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What happened after he disappeared?” asked Scorpius.

“Well, the Triwizard Tournament was cancelled of course,” explained Ron. “There was a lot of tension between Hogwarts and Durmstrang. Hermione was sure that the boys who disappeared Cedric were the same ones in Durmstrang robes who tried to sabotage him during the first task.” 

“Turns out I was right,” said Hermione under her breath.

Ron went on, “Then Dumbledore went missing and turned up dead in Little Hangleton along with the Triwizard Cup.”

Snape explained, “Normally the cup is left untouched until it is claimed by the victor, but with the Tournament cancelled, Dumbledore discovered, fatally, that Barty Crouch Jr. had turned the cup into a Portkey meant for Harry Potter.”

“Then how was Voldemort resurrected?” asked Scorpius.

Snape’s voice went heavy. “While investigating Little Hangleton, Dumbledore apparently came across a ring that belonged to Voldemort’s wizarding ancestors. Whatever stroke of stupidity possessed him to wear the ring eludes me, but it was inlaid with a curse that weakened him enough to be ambushed by Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch Jr. As Voldemort’s rejuvenation ritual only required blood of the Dark Lord’s enemy, Dumbledore unwillingly took Harry’s place in the ritual.”

This revelation was difficult for Scorpius to swallow. Not only had he brought Voldemort back, he made him stronger. The potion that regenerated Voldemort from his weakened form required him to combine his father’s bones, his servant’s flesh, and his enemy’s blood. What Voldemort didn’t know, however, was that when he took in Harry’s blood, he unwittingly took in protective magic that prevented him from being able to kill Harry.

“So Lily’s sacrifice that protected Harry from Voldemort was never strengthened, because Voldemort never took in Harry’s blood?” concluded Scorpius.

“It appears so,” said Snape grimly. “Then Voldemort murdered Dumbledore, reclaimed the ring, and took his wand for good measure. I presume Voldemort liked the symbolism of murdering Harry Potter using Dumbledore’s own wand—which is exactly what he did.”

“He took Harry’s Invisibility Cloak as a trophy, too,” Ron added. “He’s pretty much invincible now. Been very elusive from the resistance.”

Scorpius looked around, unimpressed. “This is the resistance?”

Ron scowled, offended. “Well... I mean... Dumbledore’s Army has shrunk considerably since its peak, but we’re still pretty menacing. We may be all that’s left but we’ve kept fighting on. Hiding in plain sight. Doing our best to tickle their nose hairs. Granger here is a wanted woman. I’m a wanted man.”

“Less wanted,” said Snape dryly.

Hermione stood. “To be clear: In this other world... ? Before you meddled?”

“Voldemort is dead,” assured Scorpius. “Killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry is Head of Magical Law Enforcement. You’re Minister for Magic.”

Hermione smiled, impressed with herself. “I’m Minister for Magic?”

“Brilliant” said Ron, eager to join in on the fun. “What do I do?”

“You help run Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” replied Scorpius, trying his best to make it sound equally impressive.

Ron’s face fell. “Okay, so, she’s Minister for Magic and I run a—joke shop?”

“You’re mostly focused on bringing up your kids,” offered Scorpius.

“Great,” said Ron, content. “I expect their mother is hot.”

Scorpius looked awkwardly to Ron and then to Hermione. “Well... Um... Depends on what you think of... The thing is, you two sort of have kids—together. A daughter and a son.” Ron and Hermione looked at each other, astonished, and then quickly looked away. Scorpius continued, amused, “Married. In love. Everything. You were shocked the other time too. When you were Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Ron was married to Padma. You’re _constantly_ surprised by it.”

Ron looked to Hermione and cleared his throat. When words failed him, he cleared his throat again, and then again, each time with less conviction.

“Close your mouth when you’re looking at me, Weasley,” said Hermione. Slightly discombobulated, Ron looked away innocently, pretending to have spotted something interesting anywhere else. Hermione turned to Scorpius and asked, “And—Snape? What does Snape do in this other world?”

“I’m dead, evidently.”

The Shrieking Shack fell to silence. Snape was neither angry nor sad; he was merely resigned to his fate. Hermione looked at Snape in mourning, as though she were already standing over his corpse. Ron couldn’t look at him at all, but he too was stricken by this revelation.

“How?” asked Snape.

“Bravely,” replied Scorpius.

“Who?”

“Voldemort.”

“How very irritating,” Snape moaned. “Still, there’s glory in being taken down by the Dark Lord himself, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry, Severus,” consoled Hermione.

Snape sighed. “Well, at least I’m not married to him.”

“Have you discovered anything on the Time-Turner, Hermione?” asked Scorpius, slightly pressingly if only to not dwell on the subject of Snape’s demise.

Hermione gathered herself and picked up the Time-Turner. “It’s considerably different than the one I used, but I think I see how it works. Ministry Time-Turners required you to physically set the time you want to go back to, but this one only requires you to _think_ it. The problem is, it’s designed to go so far back that it requires an exceptionally skilled Legilimens to go back to a specific time. Furthermore, with the five minute time limit... something doesn’t seem right about this Time-Turner.”

“Well, it was made by Death Eaters, for a start,” said Scorpius.

“No, I mean it seems... primitive,” she continued, looking at the Time-Turner curiously. “Like it wasn’t finished. What good’s a Time-Turner if you can’t choose when to go back, and you can only stay for five minutes?”

Scorpius looked at it too. Were the Death Eaters who made it not skilled enough, or were the defects intended features? “Is there anything you can do so I’d be able to use it?”

“We lack the resources here for anything major,” said Hermione. She opened a chest containing various miscellaneous magical trinkets, many of which were no longer functional, and withdrew pieces seemingly at random. “If we’re to make the time limit longer, or lift it entirely, we’d need to rebuild it from scratch. But I think choosing the return time can be made easier by adding a physical dial.”

“You could give it hands—like a clock,” suggested Ron. He then twisted his arms to imitate the hands of a clock. “One for the year, month, day, and hour.”

“I like that idea, Ron,” said Hermione, pulling out a fob watch.

Ron smirked. “That’s why you married me.”

Hermione smiled to herself, refusing to laugh. “I’ll get started right away,” she said, and she began pouring over the Time-Turner, waving her wand over it as she chanted incantations and tweaking it with instruments from her desk.

“Alright, kid, now give us details,” instructed Ron, ready for action. “How did you make such a mess in the past? We need to know what to fix.”

“Well, the first time, when we took Cedric’s wand, we just used a Disarming Charm.”

“A simple Shield Charm should suffice,” said Snape.

“And then in the lake, he came to rescue us when I started to drown. When he touched us, he travelled with us.”

“A Bubble-Head Charm will allow you to breathe underwater. We’ll need to use it on your past self as well so Diggory steers clear. Are you familiar with these spells?”

“I can make a pretty nifty Shield Charm,” offered Scorpius, slightly embarrassed by his ineptitude. 

Snape withdrew his wand. “Then I shall teach you the Bubble-Head Charm.”

Ron joked, “I don’t envy you—having to endure Snape’s teaching.”

Snape gave him a dead stare, which made Ron immediately uncomfortable. “Ten points from Gryffindor,” he said wryly. He turned his attention back to Scorpius and held his wand to his own chin. “Follow my wand movements very carefully and repeat after me.” He waved his wand in tiny circles as he incanted, “ _Ebublio Oris_.”

Scorpius followed Snape’s instruction. “ _Ebublio Oris_.” 

Bubbles rose from the tips of their wands, slowly engulfing their faces until their mouths and noses were encased by a mask of air. Snape waved his wand and their bubbles popped.

“Good work,” said Snape sincerely (or at least as sincerely as Snape could be). “It would have been a pleasure to have you as a student.”

Ron crossed his arms, looking surly. “Teacher’s pet,” he said under his breath.

“Finished!” exclaimed Hermione excitedly. She handed the Time-Turner to Scorpius. It was now embellished with clock hands and had numbers etched around the rim. “It’s not perfect, but it should be stable enough. Are we ready to put this to the test?”

“Nice one, Hermione,” praised Scorpius. “We’ll need to go to the site of the first task. If I can stop Albus from disarming Cedric, then you and Ron will still be married when we fix things.”

“You mean this Time-Turner only moves you in time, not space?” asked Hermione, becoming concerned.

Scorpius kicked himself for not sharing this information earlier. “Yes, yes, it’s—uh—you travel back in the same spot you stand in—”

“Interesting,” said Hermione darkly. She and Snape stared at each other as they digested this information.

“Then it’s me and the boy,” said Snape.

“No offence, Snape, but I’m not trusting this to anyone, it’s too important,” protested Hermione.

“Hermione, you’re the most wanted rebel in the wizarding world,” countered Snape. “Doing this will require you to go outside. When was the last time you were outside?”

“Not for a long time, but—”

“If you’re found outside, the Dementors will kiss you—they’ll suck out your soul.”

Hermione slammed her hand on the table, then told him with frustration and slight exhaustion, “Severus, I’m done with living off scraps, making failed attempts at coups. This is our chance to reset the world.” She nodded at Ron, who pulled down a map. Hermione walked over and drew their movements with her wand. “The first task of the Tournament took place at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, not too far from the Whomping Willow. We turn time at the Willow, get to the Tournament, block the spell, and then return safely. With precision—it can be done and it won’t require us to show our faces outside in our time at all. Then we’ll turn time again, make our way to the lake, and reverse the second task.”

Snape shook his head. “You’re risking everything—”

“We get this right,” she interrupted, “Harry’s alive, Voldemort’s dead, and the Augurey is gone, for that no risk is too great. Though I am sorry what it will cost you.”

Snape sighed, defeated. “Sometimes costs are made to be borne,” he said, then nodded. Hermione nodded back. Snape’s face crumbled. “I didn’t just quote Dumbledore, did I?”

Hermione smiled. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s pure Severus Snape.” She turned to Scorpius and indicated to the Time-Turner. “Malfoy—” Scorpius put the Time-Turner in her hand. She turned the hands counterclockwise, with the longest one (presumably the year) making several rotations until she was satisfied. “Let’s hope this works,” she said with anticipation and a hint of excitement. 

One by one, they climbed back into the secret passage. They made their way to the roots of the Whomping Willow, where they braced themselves for what was to come. Hermione pressed down on the Time-Turner. It clicked. Light exploded out from it, filling the passage. And then, time moved in reverse.


	47. The Impatient Instrument

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 8: The Impatient Instrument

Scorpius climbed first out of the roots of the Whomping Willow, making sure the coast was clear. He hit the knot in the tree to calm the limbs and motioned Hermione, Ron, and Snape out from underground when it was clear that they had made it back in time.

Hermione took the lead, and they raced to the arena of the first task. Ludo Bagman’s commentating had already begun as they entered. They kept to the shadows, making sure no one saw them. Scorpius pointed out the back of his, Albus’s and Delphi’s hooded heads in their Durmstrang disguises, and they ducked behind the stands, watching impatiently.

Bagman’s voice boomed around the stadium as Cedric Diggory entered the pit. “And Cedric Diggory has entered the stage. And he seems ready. Scared, but ready. He dodges this way. He dodges that. The girls swoon as he dives for cover. They cry as one: Don’t damage our Diggory, Mr. Dragon! And Cedric skirts left and he dives right—and he readies his wand—”

“This is taking too long,” sneered Snape. “The Time-Turner is spinning.” Four of their minutes had been spent, and they still needed time to make it back to the tree. 

Bagman continued, “What has this young, brave, handsome boy got up his sleevies now?”

Albus raised his wand. Hermione cast a Shield Charm out in front of him, blocking Albus’s Disarming Charm. Albus looked confused that his spell didn’t work as the past version of Scorpius began fussing about the Time-Turner. And then they were gone.

Cedric fired a spell across the pit which hit a rock. The rock started to grow legs, then a tail, and soon resembled a greyhound. The dog barked and the dragon turned its attention toward its new prey.

Bagman laughed, impressed. “A dog—he’s transfigured a stone into a dog—dog diggity, Cedric Diggory—you are a doggy dynamo.”

The augmented Time-Turner in Snape’s hands began to shake violently; it was clear their time was nearly up too. With their task complete, they bolted out of the stadium, heading as quickly as possible for the Whomping Willow. Louder and faster, the Time-Turner shook with danger. With the Whomping Willow in sight, their time had run out and the years flew by.


	48. Demented and Dethroned

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 9: Demented and Dethroned

Scorpius hit the ground hard, soaked in the morning dew of the grass. Ron screaming in agony, his arm twisted backwards entirely. Snape looked around fearfully. Hermione rushed to attend to Ron.

“Ow. Ow. Owwwwwww,” he wailed.

“Ron... Ron...” cried Hermione. “What has it done to you?”

“Oh no. I knew it,” grunted Snape. He shook the Time-Turner as though he could convince it to grant them more time through violence.

Scorpius helped Ron to his feet. “The Time-Turner did something to Albus and Cedric too. I don’t think it likes taking people back so far.”

“Useful—time to—ow—tell us,” grunted Ron.

“We’re above ground,” snapped Snape, raising his wand in case someone were to see them. “We need to move. Now.” 

They made a break for the Whomping Willow. Hermione grabbed Ron’s good hand and pulled him along. “Ron, you can still walk, come on...”

“Did it work?” asked Scorpius.

“We blocked the spell,” assured Hermione. “Cedric kept his wand. Yes. It worked.”

“But we came back to the wrong place—we are outside,” said Snape, trying to repress his panic. “ _You_ are outside.”

“We need to use the Time-Turner again—get out of here—” said Ron, wincing through the pain.

“We need to find shelter,” insisted Snape. “We’re horribly exposed.”

Cold wind passed through the trees, chilling them from their face to their soul. Mist covered the ground, which brought with it dread. Shadows moved in the forest that slowly became shapes that became Dementors.

“Too late,” lamented Hermione.

“This is a disaster,” said Snape, lost for hope.

“They’re after me, not any of you,” said Hermione with a whisper of fear in her bold determination. “Ron. I love you and I always have. But the three of you need to run. Go. Now.”

“What?” said Ron and Scorpius in unison.

“Can we talk about the love thing first?” asked Ron.

Hermione took a quivering breath but was dedicated to her task. “This is still Voldemort’s world. And I am done with it. Reversing the next task will change everything.”

“But they’ll give you the Dementor's Kiss!” argued Scorpius.

“And then you’ll change the past,” said Hermione, giving him all her confidence. “And then they won’t. Go. Now.”

Dementors surrounded them like a dome, with Hermione at its centre. Icy air stung Scorpius’s lungs as he breathed short breaths. Happiness seemed to be a distant memory. Hope was unconscionable. His mind was overwhelmed by all the grief he’d ever endured. The final sighs of his dying mother consumed his thoughts.

Snape tugged his arm. “Go. We go,” he said.

Scorpius looked to Hermione, not wanting to leave her to her fate. But he had a mission. He had to get to the lake. He had to bring back Albus. He and Snape kept walking on, casually but with purpose. Ron remained behind.

“You’re supposed to be going too,” Hermione told him, her eyes now wet with tears.

“Well, they are after me a bit and I really am in quite a lot of pain. And, you know, I’d rather be here,” said Ron, his voice shaking. He raised his wand. “ _Expecto—_ ”

Hermione grabbed his arm, forcing him to lower his wand. “Let’s keep them here and give the boy the best chance we can.”

Ron looked at her, his eyes heavy. For the first time, he was lost for a joke or a quip or any such way to bring levity to their dire situation.

Hermione smiled, somehow able to summon hope. “A daughter and a son,” she said.

Ron smiled too, his eyes streaming. “I know. I liked that idea too.” He looked around at the wave of Dementors closing in on them. He was aware of what was to come, but unable to brace himself for it. No one could prepare themselves to be severed of their soul. “I’m scared,” he admitted.

“Kiss me,” said Hermione. Ron obeyed.

Snape stopped a safe distance from the Dementors. He took a moment to think and then set the Time-Turner for the second task.

Scorpius watched Ron and Hermione. The Dementors forced them apart and pinned them each to the ground. Scorpius had witnessed murder, but to witness a Dementor syphon Ron and Hermione’s souls was a horror that shook him to his core. Their bodies writhed in agony, but they were too paralysed to flail or struggle. The Dementors leaned over them, seemingly able to command their souls with the fluctuations of their breaths. With each breath, their bodies pulsed with a white-gold haze culminating at their mouths. Little by little, the Dementors drew out their souls, until taking one, final, powerful breath. 

“Let’s get down to the water,” said Snape, containing his despair and maintaining his resolve. “Walk. Don’t run.”

Scorpius obeyed. He only just noticed the tears pouring from his eyes and his broken breaths.

“Stay calm, Scorpius,” insisted Snape. “They may be blind but they can sense your fear.”

“They just sucked out their souls,” said Scorpius in destitute disbelief. 

With the lake in their sights, a Dementor swooped down in their path. It moved its hooded head like a dog tracking a scent, drawn to Scorpius. His mind went heavy, filled memories of loved ones he’d lost, of the mistakes he’d made, of the bullying he’d endured, and of the doom to come.

Snape looked at him desperately. “Think of something else, Scorpius. Occupy your thoughts.”

“I feel cold,” said Scorpius distantly. “I can’t see. There’s a fog inside me—around me.”

“You’re a king, and I’m a professor,” Snape reminded him. “They’ll only attack with good reason. Think about those you love, think about why you’re doing this.”

He remembered his mother. He remembered her final days. He remembered her pain, her suffering. He remembered his powerlessness. “I can hear my mother. She wants me—my help—but she knows I can’t—help.”

“Listen to me, Scorpius,” commanded Snape. “Think of Albus. You’re giving up your kingdom for Albus, right? One person. All it takes is one person. For me, that person is Lily Evans. I couldn’t save her, and I couldn’t save Harry for her. So now I give my allegiance to the cause she believed in. And it’s possible—that along the way I started believing in it myself.”

Lily Evans. Harry Potter’s mother. Snape believed in the power of love... because of his love for Lily. Love brought him light in the darkness, even when that love was lost. And if there was anything that brought Scorpius light when faced with all manner of adversity, it was Albus Potter.

Scorpius smiled. He walked around the Dementor toward the lake, as though he was on a leisurely stroll. “The world changes and we change with it. I am better off in this world. But the world is not better. And I don’t want that.”

“Professor Snape!”

Snape and Scorpius whipped around. Professor Umbridge stood behind them looking particularly impetuous.

“Professor Umbridge,” greeted Snape innocently.

“Have you heard the news?” she said with a giggle. “We’ve caught that traitorous Mudblood Hermione Granger. She was just out here.”

“That’s—fantastic,” said Snape, slipping effortlessly back into his Death Eater act. 

Umbridge stared at him. Snape stared back. Then Umbridge smiled.

“With you,” she said. “Granger was with you.”

“With me?” dismissed Snape. “You’re mistaken.”

“With you and Scorpius Malfoy,” she said as she turned to Scorpius. She took a step toward him, slowly raising her wand. “A student I’m becoming increasingly concerned about.”

Scorpius’s eyes followed her wand. “Well...”

“Dolores,” said Snape, “we’re late for class, so if you’ll excuse us...”

“If you’re late for class, why are you not heading back to the school?” she asked pointedly. “Why are you heading to the lake?”

Snape breathed heavy and then his face contorted into a shape that his sallow cheeks seemed pained to make: he smiled.

“How long have you suspected?” he asked.

“Years,” said Umbridge, vindicated. “And I should have acted upon it sooner.”

She whipped her wand toward Snape, but Snape was faster. “ _Depulso_!” he shouted. Blue light crashed squarely into her chest. She flew backwards in the air, spinning rapidly before landing solidly several feet away. “She always was too grand for her own good,” he said when he was satisfied with her lack of movement. Dementors crept their way towards them. “There’s no turning back now. _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Silver light poured out from the tip of his wand, slowly taking the form of a majestic and elegant doe.

“A doe?” said Scorpius in awe of the beauty Snape created. “Not what I was expecting.”

The doe leapt forward as a Dementor swooped down. Snape’s Patronus pulsed with a brilliant silver haze that hit the Dementor, repelling it back into the sky.

“Lily’s Patronus,” said Snape warmly. “Strange, isn’t it? What comes from within?” More and more Dementors drew near, too many for a single Patronus to fend off. “You need to run. I will keep them at bay for as long as I can.”

“Thank you for being my light in the darkness,” said Scorpius as the Dementors closed in around Snape.

Snape steeled himself, full of strength and bravery, and handed the Time-Turner to Scorpius. “Tell Albus—tell Albus Severus—I’m proud he carries my name. Now go. Go. _Ebublio Oris_!”

A bubble mask covered Scorpius’s mouth. He nodded, and the doe walked toward him. The doe ran off toward the lake, and Scorpius followed.

A mass of black cloaks engulfed Snape. He was thrown and dropped and pulled from one Dementor to another, each greedily ripping and devouring pieces of his soul. The doe began to fade, until it dissipated in the air, taking its light and warmth with it.

Scorpius bolted at the lake, slipping on the layer of ice that had formed around the shore. He slid headfirst toward the water, until the ice became too thin to hold. It shattered beneath him, and Scorpius fell into the icy lake. Light flashed in the water, and time started to move.

The world changes, and we change with it.

Scorpius broke the surface of the water, screaming in agony. His arm was in severe pain, but he withstood it. He had seen Albus again. He had used the Bubble-Head Charm on him and his past self to keep them from drowning. And then he was pulled back. He looked up at the sky. It certainly seemed... bluer than before.

Albus emerged from the lake’s depths, exuding excitement. “Whoa!” he shouted as his bubble mask popped.

Unbridled joy filled Scorpius’s heart. “Albus! It’s you. Ow. Owww.” Unbridled pain filled Scorpius’s arm. He struggled to keep himself afloat.

“That was close! Did you see that Merman?” recalled Albus. “The guy with the—and then the thing with the—woah!” He swam to Scorpius, who had drifted under the water, but managed to (painfully) return to the surface. “Are you okay?”

“My arm,” Scorpius explained. “Can I get a hand?”

Albus threw his arm around Scorpius and helped him as they made their way to the shore.

“It was weird though—how come we could suddenly breathe?” pondered Albus. “Cedric swam right past us.”

“Good. That’s how it should be,” insisted Scorpius, entirely pleased with his work. “You have no idea how good it is to see you again.”

“You just saw me two minutes ago.”

Scorpius threw his good arm around Albus in an awkward sort of hug that impaired their ability to keep afloat. “A lot has happened since then.”

“Careful. You’re drowning us,” laughed Albus. As they climbed ashore, he notice Scorpius’s darker robes. “What are you wearing?”

“What am I wearing? Oww.” Scorpius pulled off his soaking cloak to allow his broken arm to breathe. He looked to Albus, who was now wearing his Slytherin undershirt. “What are _you_ wearing? Yes! You’re in Slytherin!

“What has you all excited?” asked Albus, observing his own clothes with confusion.

“We failed!” Scorpius proclaimed ecstatically, as he spun on the spot, breathing in the fresh autumn air, free of the depressing pollution from the Dementors’ influence.

“What? That’s not a good thing.”

“YES. YES IT IS. AND IT’S AMAZING.”

Hogwarts Castle stood tall and mighty, completely intact, and not a single Voldemort or Augurey banner in sight.

Albus laughed. “Scorpius. Have you been eating too many sweets again?”

“There you go, you see—all dry humour and Albus-y. I love it.” Scorpius punched Albus’s shoulder with his good arm.

Albus rubbed his shoulder. “Now I’m starting to get worried...”

Suddenly, the smile faded from Albus’s face and his eyes widened in fear as he saw several figures heading towards them.

“Albus. Albus!” cried Harry, as he sprinted ahead of the others, his gait longer than a Hippogriff’s wingspan. He threw himself at Albus, embracing him tightly for a moment, and then began to examine him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Albus, mildly annoyed as Ginny, Professor McGonagall, and Draco caught up. “Scorpius’s arm is broken, though. I think he’s off his rocker.”

“Harry!” Scorpius exclaimed, overjoyed to see Harry alive and well. “Haaaarry Potterrrrr!” he sang, raising his arms exultingly (which he immediately regretted). “Owww... And Ginny! And Professor McGonagall! And...” he choked on his excitement as he saw his father, “Dad. My dad. Hi. Dad.”

“Hello, Scorpius,” said Draco, as he took off his overcoat to wrap around his son. “Let’s get that arm looked at, shall we?”

“You’re all here,” said Albus.

“And Myrtle’s let your secret slip,” said Ginny.

They knew. Scorpius discreetly tucked away the Time-Turner, then pretended to search his person.

“What’s going on?” asked Albus innocently.

“You’re the ones who just returned from time,” said McGonagall without the faintest interest in humouring his feigned ignorance. “Why don’t you tell us.”

“Oh no. Oh bother,” said Scorpius, turning out his pockets. “Where is it?”

Albus kept up his charade. “Just returned from where?”

“I’ve lost it!” demanded Scorpius, keeping up his own charade. “I must have dropped it when my arm broke. I’ve lost the Time-Turner.”

Albus shot him a deeply annoyed look. “You’ve lost what?”

“Drop the pretense, Albus,” commanded Harry.

McGonagall outstretched her arm, instructing them to return to the castle. “I think you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Reluctantly, but obediently, Albus and Scorpius returned to the castle, followed by their parents. The warmly-lit halls and cold glares from students were, for the first time, a welcoming sight to Scorpius. Albus returned to the dormitory to change, while Draco took Scorpius to the Hospital wing to get his arm examined.

Scorpius knew he had to keep the Time-Turner hidden at all costs, until he could destroy it completely. Only _he_ knew the trouble the Time-Turner wrought. If Hermione Granger-Weasley, Minister for Magic, couldn’t be trusted to destroy it, then the responsibility fell to Scorpius Malfoy.


	49. Return to Order

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 10: Return to Order

Albus listened closely, his stomach churning with guilt, as Scorpius (whose arm was now in a sling) explained what happened after they tried to rescue Cedric. They’d been responsible for changing the course of history so that Voldemort killed his father and ruled over the Wizarding World. He couldn’t be upset with Scorpius for coming clean, in fact, he had wished he’d listened to Scorpius in the first place.

Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, arms crossed, and looking angrier than Albus had ever seen her. His parents and Draco stood behind their sons (Ginny with her hands on Albus’s shoulders). Albus couldn’t even imagine what they were thinking, and was too frightened to turn to look at their faces.

“So to be clear—” began McGonagall after Scorpius finished explaining how Snape, Hermione, and Ron helped him return history to its proper order, “you illegally jumped off the Hogwarts Express, you invaded and stole from the Ministry of Magic, you took it upon yourself to change time, whereupon you severely altered the sequence of events—”

“I agree it doesn’t sound good,” interrupted Albus.

“And despite making such a monumental mess the first go around, you decided you would go back in time again—and this time, you resurrected the worst wizard the world has ever known and heralded in a new age of Dark Magic.” She paused as the shame washed over Albus and Scorpius. “You’re correct, Mr. Potter, it doesn’t sound good, does it? Are you aware how foolish your actions have been?”

“Yes, Professor,” said Scorpius, hanging his head.

“Yes,” said Albus, with hesitation.

Harry stepped forward. “Professor, if I may—”

“You may not,” said McGonagall fiercely. Harry stepped back. “What you choose to do as parents is your matter, but this is my school, and these are my students, and I will choose what punishment they will face.”

“Sounds fair,” Draco agreed.

Professor McGonagall stood and leaned over her desk to bear down on Albus. “Now, pray tell, what exactly was the purpose you intended to serve?”

“It was Amos Diggory, Professor,” began Albus, deciding to give his most sincere explanation (albeit without implicating Delphi). “He came to our house and pleaded with my dad to use the Time-Turner to help him see his son again. It must have been horrible for Cedric—the last words he heard was Voldemort calling him a spare before killing him. I just thought... I just wanted... If Cedric had to die, I just wanted him to die knowing his father loved him.”

A profound silence filled the room. Scorpius looked to him sympathetically, though something else flickered briefly in his eye.

When Professor McGonagall continued, her voice became softer, but still decisive. “I _should_ expel you but,” her eyes drifted knowingly to Harry, “all things considered—I think it might be safer for you to remain in my care. You are in detention for—well, consider yourself in detention for the rest of the year. Christmas is cancelled for you. You can forget visiting Hogsmeade ever again. And that’s just the start...”

Suddenly the door swung open as Hermione entered the room. The door shut behind her, closing out what looked like a gaggle of nosey students. “What did I miss?” she asked as McGonagall turned to her with a look of displeasure.

“It is considered polite to knock when entering a room, Hermione Granger, maybe you missed that,” McGonagall snapped.

“Ah,” said Hermione, realising she’d overstepped.

“If I could also give a detention to you, Minister, I would. Keeping hold of a Time-Turner, of all the stupid things!”

“In my defence—” started Hermione, but Professor McGonagall had no patience for her excuses.

“And in a bookcase,” she rebuked incredulously. “You kept it in a bookcase. It’s almost laughable.”

“Minerva,” implored Hermione, before correcting herself as she realised she wasn’t in a position privy to informalities. “Professor McGonagall—”

“Your children didn’t exist!” explained McGonagall pointedly. Hermione was unable to respond. McGonagall continued with a hint of sadness, “This happened in my school, under my watch. After all that Dumbledore did, I couldn’t live with myself...”

“I know,” Hermione acknowledged, contrite.

McGonagall took a moment to compose herself. Her students, current and former, all felt the weight of their actions. “Your intentions to give Amos closure were honourable, if misguided. And it does sound as if you were brave, Scorpius, and you, Albus, but the lesson even your father sometimes failed to heed is that bravery doesn’t forgive stupidity. Always think. Think what’s possible. A world controlled by Voldemort is—”

“A horrific world,” finished Scorpius.

“You are so young,” she said, then looked to the adults. “You’re all so young. You have no idea how dark the wizarding wars got. You were—reckless—with the world some people—some very dear friends of mine and yours—sacrificed a huge amount to create and sustain.”

“Yes, Professor,” said Albus and Scorpius together.

“Go on,” she said, emotionally drained. “Get out. The lot of you. And find me that Time-Turner.”

Hermione went for the door, but as it opened, she found herself facing a horror stricken Rose Granger-Weasley. The other students scattered, but Rose remained staring at her mother as though she were off in the distance. Hermione immediately confronted the possibility of losing her daughter as tears poured from her eyes. They threw themselves into one another’s arms and held tight, as though at any moment they could be ripped away from one another forever. 


	50. Lion in the Serpent's Nest

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 11: Lion in the Serpent's Nest

Once before, in the guise of Gregory Goyle, Harry Potter visited Slytherin Dungeon. It didn’t strike him as particularly homely like the Gryffindor Common Room; instead, the immaculate furniture and elaborate carvings gave the room a strong air of stateliness. The room was lit by green lamps hanging from the ceiling and by the refracted light from the tall windows that looked out directly into the waters of the Great Lake.

He followed a long, curved hallway to reach Albus’s dormitory. The Slytherin beds were not four-posters like Gryffindor’s. For privacy, each student was sectioned off by partitions and a curtain at the entrance. Each section was spacious too, including a desk, a bedside table, a trunk, a wardrobe, and shelves for books and trinkets (though Scorpius’s book collection comprised a great deal of his compartment).

Albus sat on the edge of his bed, looking out into the lake as a mermaid swam by his window. Harry wanted to yell and curse and reprimand his son for endangering the world, but he figured Professor McGonagall had already given him quite enough of that. And anyways, every fight he had with Albus only seemed to make things worse. All he wanted was to talk to his son, to understand him, to talk reason into him.

“Thank you for letting me come up,” said Harry.

Albus nodded, but not curtly. It seemed he also wanted to avoid a fight.

Harry looked out the window too, having difficulty getting to the point. “No luck, as yet, with the Time-Turner searching. They’re negotiating with the Merpeople to dredge the lake.” He sat awkwardly beside Albus and looked around his room. Albus had a collection of the most random assortment of Muggle objects. When he was younger, he loved finding new objects and asking Harry what they were. Harry remembered Albus telling him that he was sad wizards couldn’t reveal themselves to Muggles, because there were a great many ways wizards could help Muggles. In fact, Muggle Studies was the only class he took without Scorpius. Harry smiled, thinking of how much Albus reminded him of Grandpa Weasley. “This is a nice room.”

“Green is a soothing colour, isn’t it?” said Albus. “I mean, Gryffindor rooms are all well and good but the trouble with red is—it is said to send you a little mad—not that I’m casting aspersions...”

“Can you explain why you tried to do this?” asked Harry.

“I wanted to help... Mr. Diggory...” said Albus, though he was no longer confident in his decision-making. “He loved Cedric so much... he just wanted to tell him that before he died. He didn’t deserve to die a spare. And you wouldn’t help... It seemed... unfair.”

“Of course it’s unfair, Albus, don’t you think I know that?” Harry said, hurt. “I was there. I saw him die. But to do this... to risk all this...”

“I know,” said Albus solemnly. “I just didn’t want to be a spare anymore. I wanted to be more like... you.”

Harry stood, stricken with anger at hearing Albus think the things Harry went through were something he chose. “If you were trying to do as I did, you went the wrong way about it. I didn’t volunteer for adventure, I was forced into it. You did something really reckless—something really stupid and dangerous—something that could have destroyed everything—”

“I know. Okay. I know,” repeated Albus, his voice breaking as he wiped away a tear.

Harry took a breath, calming himself. He did, after all, want to make peace. Harry took a seat back down next to Albus and put his arm around his son. “Well I was wrong too—to think Scorpius was a danger to you. He wasn’t a black cloud.”

“No,” said Albus plainly. 

“And I’ve locked away the map in our Gringotts vault. You won’t see it again. Your mum left your room exactly as it was when you ran away—you know that? Wouldn’t let me go in—wouldn’t let anyone go in—you really scared her... And me.”

“Really scared you?” asked Albus, as though it were inconceivable.

“Yes,” said Harry, with a slight chuckle.

“I thought Harry Potter wasn’t afraid of anything,” remarked Albus.

“Is that how I make you feel?” said Harry with a smile.

Albus looked to Harry warily. “I don’t think Scorpius said, but when we returned after the first task, I was suddenly in Gryffindor House. Nothing was better between us then either—so—the fact that I’m in Slytherin—I guess that’s not as big of a deal between us as I thought.”

“No. It isn’t,” said Harry softly. “That doesn’t matter to me one bit.” Harry hugged Albus, and Albus (to Harry’s surprise) returned it. “Are you okay, Albus?”

“No,” admitted Albus.

“No,” said Harry. “Nor me.”


	51. St. Jerome’s Graveyard

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 12: St. Jerome’s Graveyard

Aunt Petunia stood with her back turned to Lily and James Potter’s grave as Harry (barely taller than the gravestones) walked toward it. He picked dandelions from the dewy grass and observed his parents’ graves.

“Go on, then,” spat Aunt Petunia, “lay down your grotty little flowers and then let’s go. I already hate this poxy little village, I don’t know why I even had the thought—Godric’s Hollow, Godless Hollow, more like, the place is clearly a hive of filth—go on, chop-chop.”

The bell of St. Jerome Church tolled. Harry knelt at the graveside as his eyes filled with tears. He longed deeply to be with his mother and father—to feel their love.

“ _Now_ Harry...” Aunt Petunia demanded. “I don’t have time for this. Duddy has his Cubs tonight and you know he hates to be late.”

He wiped away his tears as he rested the dandelions on the bed of flowers covering their graves. There were so many, each colourful and fantastical, that his offering seemed pathetically insufficient. Although... it was curious that there should be so many.

“Aunt Petunia,” said Harry, musingly. “We’re they’re last living relatives, right?”

“Yes,” she answered shortly. “You and I. Yes.”

“And—they weren’t popular?” asked Harry. “You said they didn’t have any friends?”

Petunia smiled, and then explained (with the most false sense of pity), “Lily tried—bless her—she tried—it wasn’t her fault, but she repelled people—by her very nature. It was her intensity, it was her manner, it was her—way. And your father—obnoxious man—extraordinarily obnoxious. No friends. Neither of them.”

“So my question is—why are there so many flowers? Why are there flowers all over their grave?”

Flowers began to rain slowly from the sky as the bell of St. Jerome tolled again. Petunia turned to see the graves covered in flowers and it moved her. She walked slowly to her sister’s grave and sat at its side, trying hard to fight the emotions as they came to her but succumbing all the same.

“Oh. Yes,” she said dismissively (but with a hint of sadness). “I suppose there are a—few. Must have blown over from the other graves. Or someone’s playing a trick. Yes, I think that’s most likely, some young rapscallion with too much time on his hands has gone around collecting flowers from all the graves and deposited them here—”

“But they’re all marked with their names...” said Harry. He took a handful of flowers into his hands and the petals fell open, revealing messages that he read. “‘Lily and James, what you did, we will never forget,’ ‘Lily and James, your sacrifice...’”

The flowers wilted in his hands. A fierce wind blew through the graveyard, scattering the flowers, and carrying with it the voice of Lord Voldemort. He hissed, “I smell guilt, there is a stench of guilt upon the air.”

The bell tolled. The gravestone cracked. From behind it rose a decrepit hand.

“Get away,” Petunia told Harry as she leapt up. “Get away from there.”

The hand began to rise, followed by the rest of Lord Voldemort. He towered menacingly over the grave wearing the shadows like a cloak.

“I knew it,” Petunia cried, fleeing from the graveyard. “This place is dangerous. The sooner we leave Godric’s Hollow the better.”

Harry found himself being pulled by a force, dragging him out of the graveyard and into consciousness. He resisted, desperately watching on as Voldemort loomed forebodingly.

“Do you still see with my eyes, Harry Potter?”

The graveyard scene slowly dissipated into smoke and shadow. Harry fell to the ground, trying to claw forward as he was being pulled away. Suddenly, Albus burst forth from Voldemort’s shadowy robes. 

“Dad...” he called while outstretching his hand, but another force was drawing him away from Harry. “Dad...”

The whistling winds turned into Parseltongue whispers. _He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s coming._

A man’s scream echoed in the darkness, bringing with it total silence. Harry stood alone, fully grown, in a sea of blackness. Then the chilling words of Lord Voldemort crept to him in the void. _Haaarry Pottttter._


	52. Warning of the Legilimens

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 13: Warning of the Legilimens

Harry awoke in a fit of terror. He found himself reaching out into the dark bedroom, trying to grab Albus’s hand, but Albus wasn’t there. He was in danger.

“Harry? Harry? What is it?” Ginny asked, trying to comfort him. “You were screaming...”

Harry surged out of bed and dressed himself quickly. “They haven’t stopped. The dreams.”

Ginny got out of bed too, lighting the room. “They weren’t likely to stop immediately. It’s been a stressful time, and—”

“But I was never in Godric’s Hollow with Petunia,” interrupted Harry, trying his best to make sense of his dream. Someone was definitely intruding on his dream, and he feared he knew who. “This doesn’t—”

“Harry, you’re scaring me.” Ginny reached out a hand to rub Harry’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

“He’s still here, Ginny,” said Harry gravely.

“Who’s still here?” she asked. She withdrew her trembling hand and used it to cover her mouth, terrified.

“Voldemort,” Harry explained. “I saw Voldemort and Albus.”

Ginny gasped, and immediately began dressing herself too. “And Albus... ?”

“He said—Voldemort said—‘I smell guilt, there is a stench of guilt upon the air.’ He was talking to me,” he explained. Harry’s hand rose to his scar, expecting it to tell him something. 

Ginny grabbed his arm and looked at him sternly. “Harry, is Albus in danger?”

Harry’s face went white. “I think we all are.”

He pulled on his coat and ran down the staircase, Ginny in tow, to the fireplace. He was returning to Hogwarts. Hopefully, for the third time, he wouldn’t be too late.


	53. Malfoy the Unanxious

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 14: Malfoy the Unanxious

Scorpius peeked over the partition separating his and Albus’s compartments. “Aaaaaaalbuuus...” he whispered in a singsong voice. “Psst... . Albus.”

Albus didn’t stirr. It had only been a day since they returned from the lake. Albus was back into his own bed, and everything was right with the world. Well... not quite everything. There was still the matter of the Time-Turner that Scorpius had to deal with.

Scorpius tiptoed into Albus’s compartment and leaned over Albus’s headboard. “ALBUS!” he shouted.

Albus awoke with a start, rising so quickly out of his bed that he nearly smacked foreheads with Scorpius. He threw his hand to his pounding heart as Scorpius laughed.

“Pleasant,” chided Albus sarcastically. “That’s a pleasant and not scary way to wake up.”

“You know, it’s the strangest of things,” said Scorpius whimsically, taking a seat at Albus’s desk, “but ever since being in the scariest place imaginable I’m pretty much good with fear. I am—Scorpius the Dreadless. I am—Malfoy the Unanxious.”

“Good,” said Albus, rolling his eyes and pulling back his covers to sit on the edge of his bed.

Scorpius toyed lazily with a sort of handheld Muggle machine for driving screws that he found on Albus’s desk. “I mean, normally, being in lockdown, being in constant detention, it’d break me, but now—what’s the worst they can do? Bring back Mouldy Voldy and have him torture me? Nope.”

“You’re scary when you’re in a good mood, you know that?” mocked Albus.

“When Rose came up to me today in Potions and called me Bread Head I almost hugged her,” he said proudly. Albus side-eyed him and he quickly admitted, less proudly, “No, there’s no almost about it, I actually tried to hug her, and then she kicked me in the shin.”

“I’m not sure being fearless is going to be good for your health,” laughed Albus.

Scorpius studied him. It seemed unfathomable that not only was Albus sitting before him once again, but that he had been dangerously close to losing him forever. His heart rumbled.

“You don’t know how good it is to be back here, Albus,” he said warmly. “I hated it there.”

“But weren’t you—what was it again—the Scorpion King?”

Scorpius looked shamefully down at the floor. “That Scorpius was a different person—entitled, angry, mean—people were frightened of him—of me. The whole world was different—dark, dangerous. My dad did anything he was told to do. The Headmistress killed Cedric right in front of me. There were Dementors everywhere, and students tortured Muggleborns for sport. It feels like we were all tested and we all—failed.”

“But you changed things,” Albus reassured him. “You had a chance and you changed time back. Changed yourself back.”

“Only because I knew what I should be,” he replied, with a look to Albus.

Albus digested this for a moment, before asking, “Do you think I’ve been tested too? I have, haven’t I?”

“No,” answered Scorpius. “Not yet.”

“You’re wrong,” said Albus. “The stupid thing wasn’t going back once—anyone can make that mistake—the stupid thing was being arrogant enough to go back twice.”

“We both went back, Albus.”

“And why was I so determined to do this?” he went on. “Cedric? Really? No. I had something to prove. My dad’s right—he didn’t volunteer for adventure—me, this, it’s all my fault—and if it wasn’t for you everything could have gone Dark.”

“But it didn’t,” urged Scorpius, taking a seat next to Albus. “And you’re to thank for that as much as me. When the Dementors were—inside my head—Severus Snape told me to think of you. You may not have been there, Albus, but you were fighting—fighting alongside me.” Albus smiled and nodded coyly. “And helping Amos reach out to Cedric—that wasn’t such a bad idea—not in my head, anyway—though, you know, right—that we definitely can’t try again.”

“Yes. I do,” said Albus solemnly. “I do know that.”

“Good. Then you can help me destroy this.”

Scorpius stood and pulled out the Time-Turner for Albus to see. From Albus’s reaction, Scorpius might as well have been holding a bloody dagger.

“I’m pretty sure you told everyone that was on the bottom of a lake,” said Albus, leaping to his feet.

“Turns out Malfoy the Unanxious is a pretty good liar,” said Scorpius with an unconvincing swagger.

“Scorpius... We should tell someone about this...”

“Who?” asked Scorpius, slightly angry. “The Ministry kept it before, do you really trust them not to keep it again? Only you and I have experienced how dangerous this is, that means you and I have to destroy it. No one can do what we did, Albus. No one. No,” he conjured up his utmost dramatic voice, “it’s time that time-turning became a thing of the past.”

Albus looked at him, amused. “You’re quite proud of that phrase, aren’t you?”

“Been working on it all day,” Scorpius admitted.

He ran back to his compartment and dressed as quickly as he could. Reluctantly, Albus did the same. They stuffed their sheets with books and Muggle objects and dirty clothes and crept out of the dungeon, avoiding detection by Craig Bowker Jr. who had decided to study in the common room late into the night.

They decided they would need to find a place out of earshot from the rest of the castle in case things got noisy, and somewhere high up and out in the open in case things got messy. After finding a prefect patrolling outside the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, they agreed upon the roof of the Owlery as a suitable location.


	54. Unseen Children

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 15: Unseen Children

Harry and Ginny charged into the Slytherin dungeon. A student jumped up at the sight of Harry, and tried talking to him, but Harry didn’t listen. Instead, Harry ran down the curved hallway to the dormitory, before the student jumped ahead of Harry, blocking his path.

“Can I repeat again?” said the boy officiously. “This is against the rules and it’s the middle of the night.”

“I need to find my son,” demanded Harry, sidestepping the boy and entering the dormitory.

The boy stomped his foot, affronted. “I know who you are, Mr. Potter, but even you must understand that it’s against school covenant for parents or professors to enter a House quarters without express permission from...”

“Don’t be tiresome, Craig,” said Professor McGonagall curtly as she entered the room.

“You got our message?” asked Harry. She nodded. “Good.”

“Headmistress,” said Craig, embarrassed and shocked. “I’m—I was just—”

Harry turned out Albus’s sheets to find only a pile of junk underneath. 

“He’s gone?” asked McGonagall.

“Yes,” answered Harry, his heart sinking.

“And young Malfoy?” she asked nervously.

Ginny pulled Scorpius’s sheets to find he, too, was missing. “Oh no,” she gasped.

“Then let’s turn this school upside down,” commanded McGonagall fiercely. “Craig, we’ve work to do...” She and Craig marched out of the room.

Ginny turned to Harry and rested her hands on his chest. She said, “I’ll owl Bill and ask him to retrieve the map from the vault.”

“I don’t think we have enough time,” Harry urged.

“What do you mean?”

Harry looked at her gravely. “Something feels even worse this time.”

Ginny looked at him with fear, but an anger began to bubble up from beneath. “You spoke to him earlier?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes,” answered Harry, knowing what was to come.

“And did... did you argue?” she asked, choosing her words carefully. “Did you threaten him again?”

Harry flinched. He replied, “No, I thought things went fine.”

The look in Ginny’s eyes was something Harry never wished to see from his wife. She looked at him almost as if her were a stranger, and trying to repress an accusing stare. “Did you give him any ideas?”

“No...” insisted Harry, almost pleading, “whatever this is, Ginny, I didn’t do this.”

“I wish I could believe that Harry, but you’ve run our son off twice already,” she said bleakly, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “The more mistakes you make, the harder to forgive you it becomes.”

She stormed out of the dormitory. Harry watched her, trying his best to imagine what could have caused him to run off. If he were responsible for running Albus off again, he doubted he would be able to even forgive himself.


	55. The Augurey

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 16: The Augurey

Albus and Scorpius climbed the steps of the Owlery. Albus’s heart buzzed with excitement. This wasn’t much of an adventure—sneaking out past curfew with Scorpius to visit the Owlery—but it _seemed_ like one, and he couldn’t place why.

The owls hooted curiously at their unexpected visitors. Albus pushed open the hatch to the roof and immediately became bathed in silver light as he climbed out. Albus sat at the edge of the roof for a moment, simply enjoying the quiet view of Hogwarts beneath the star-flecked sky with Scorpius at his side. He felt strangely at home, but he was certain that had nothing to do with Hogwarts.

“Are you ready to do this?” asked Scorpius.

It took Albus a moment to remember what they were supposed to be doing. “Do you think we should have told Delphi?” he asked. “I mean, she helped us steal it after all.”

“We can tell her after,” said Scorpius sensibly, but with a hint of irritability. “This is too important. Especially now. Hermione—the other Hermione—altered it so that it can go back more precisely. No one should be allowed to use this.”

“You first,” Albus insisted.

Scorpius placed the Time-Turner on the roof and the two of them stepped back. Scorpius raised his wand.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” The Time-Turner rose into the air at a safe enough distance from the roof. “ _Stupify_!” Red light shot from Scorpius’s wand, hitting the Time-Turner. A puff of smoke erupted from the Time-Turner, causing it to spin wildly. When the smoke cleared, however, the Time-Turner remained undamaged. “Didn’t work. Your go.”

Albus raised his wand. “ _Reducto_!” Light blasted from his wand, hitting the Time-Turner again with a puff of smoke, but it still spun tauntingly in the air. “Nothing.”

“ _Expulso_!” cried Scorpius. Light. Puff. Nothing.

“ _CONFRINGO_!” shouted Albus.

“ _BOMBARDA_!” shouted Scorpius.

Their two spells hit the Time-Turner at once, this time causing an impact so great that it threw Albus and Scorpius backwards onto the roof. They scrambled to their feet to examine the Time-Turner.

“Anything?” asked Albus.

“No,” sighed Scorpius. “Whoever made this Time-Turner really didn’t want it to be destroyed.”

Albus scratched his chin, thinking. A thought came to him. A dangerous thought. “Maybe...” he said uncomfortably, “maybe it takes Dark Magic to destroy it.”

Scorpius looked to him, nervous but desperate. “Do you think we should try?”

Suddenly, a staggered screeching pierced the sky. A shrill, laughing, crow-like voice called out to them: “I don’t think you’d have it in you.”

The wind began to blow bluntly as a pair of long, black wings rose up from behind the Owlery. They carried not a bird, but Delphi, who herself appeared more birdlike. Her features were sharper, her hair was inlaid with feathers, her hands had grown into dangerous claws. As she rose, she grabbed the Time-Turner into her hands and then landed on the Owlery roof. Her wings folded behind her and became disguised once more. She looked triumphantly at the Time-Turner, before stuffing it in her pocket.

“Delphi?” said Albus, stunned. Scorpius raised his wand, followed by Albus, who was slower to recognise Delphi as a threat.

“We had a deal, Albus Potter,” she squawked. “You were to take me into the past. You betrayed me.”

Scorpius watched her with as much amazement as fear. “You’re a Harpy?”

Delphi laughed a cawing laugh. “Oh, you’ll find I am so much more. Something much more powerful.”

Fire blazed in her claws, which she threw at Albus’s and Scorpius’s raised wands. Their wands incinerated so quickly that the fire scorched Albus’s hand before he had time to drop it.

Scorpius looked at her darkly. “The Augurey.”

“Ooh, clever boy,” Delphi teased. “How did you know?”

“In... the other world, the one ruled by Voldemort... People kept mentioning The Augurey. I just thought it was one of Voldemort’s lieutenants.”

Delphi’s face lit up. “There was another world, where I ruled alongside the Dark Lord?”

“Augurey?” asked Albus.

“They’re a sort of black Irish phoenix,” Scorpius explained. “They cry when rain’s coming, though some people think their cries foretell death.”

“Quite,” said Delphi. “The Rowles kept one in the cage next to mine when they took me in after I hatched. Disappointing little creatures. They don’t live up to their superstitions. I figured I wore the name better.”

Albus’s head swarmed with confusion and betrayal. “So... if you weren’t trying to help Cedric... why did you need us?”

“I needed a wizard to work the Time-Turner,” said Delphi mockingly. “And you were only so eager to help. Now that the pesky impreciseness of the Time-Turner has been remedied, you can take me back to my master.”

“You can’t make us do anything!” Scorpius demanded.

Delphi grabbed Scorpius and Albus by the wrist, held them up and squeezed tightly. Her claws grew warm, then hot, then fiery. When the two began screaming in agony, the fire died and she said viciously, “You don’t have a choice.”

“But why?” asked Albus, forcing back tears. “But what? But who are you?”

A cruel smile etched itself across Delphi’s face. “Albus. I am the new past. I am the new future. I am the answer this world has been looking for.”

Despite their struggle, Delphi dragged them to the edge of the Owlery. She spread her wings wide, and leapt from the roof, gliding to the ground with Albus and Scorpius as her unwilling passengers.


	56. Dinner with the Granger-Weasleys

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 17: Dinner with the Granger-Weasleys

Ron stirred his porridge listlessly as he ruminated over the information Hermione told him about Albus and Scorpius’s adventures in time. He sat on Hermione’s desk as she worked away, as she usually did this time of night. He decided to have an impromptu dinner as an idea occurred to him after learning his and his wife’s fate in the alternate realities. Only, he struggled to muster the courage to say it.

“I can’t get over it, really,” he said suddenly. “The fact that in some realities we aren’t even, you know, married.”

“Ron, whatever this is, I’ve got ten minutes until the goblins show up to talk security at Gringotts—”

Ron interrupted her, trying to keep his momentum before he lost his courage to ask. “I mean, we’ve been together so long—and married for so long—I mean, _so_ long—”

Hermione waved her quill threateningly. “If this is your way of saying you want a marital break, Ron, then, to be clear, I will skewer you with this quill.”

“Shut up. Will you shut up for once?” said Ron, his hands shaking. He couldn’t find an easy way to ease out the question. He had to just spit it out. “I want to do one of those marriage renewal things I’ve read about. Marriage renewal. What do you think?”

Ron held his breath, watching Hermione’s reaction closely. She looked surprised at first, but then melted. “You want to marry me again?” she asked warmly, but also finding it somewhat humorous.

Ron breathed. “Well, we were only young when we did it the first time and I got very drunk and—well, to be honest, I can’t remember much of it and... the truth is—I bloody love you, Hermione Granger, and whatever time says—I’d like the opportunity to say so in front of lots of other people. Again. Sober.”

Hermione smiled and pulled Ron to her, kissing him softly. “You’re sweet.”

“And you taste of toffee...” he said. She laughed as Ron pulled her in for another kiss.

The door swung open. Ron and Hermione broke apart quickly to find Harry, Ginny, and Draco standing in the office.

“Harry,” greeted Hermione, flustered. “Ginny, and—I, uh—Draco—how lovely to see you—”

“The dreams. They’ve started again,” said Harry direly, “well, they haven’t stopped.”

“And Albus is missing,” said Ginny. “Again.”

“Scorpius too,” said Draco. “We’ve had McGonagall check the entire school. They’re gone.”

Hermione stood. “I’ll get the Aurors summoned immediately, I’ll—”

Ron laughed. “No you won’t, it’s all fine,” he said calmly. “Albus—I saw him last night. It’s all good.”

“Where?” Draco asked.

Everyone’s attention turned to Ron, which was slightly disconcerting, but he relished in the opportunity to gossip. “I was having a couple of firewhiskies with Neville in Hogsmeade—as you do—setting the world to rights—as we do—and we were coming back again—quite late, very late, and trying to work out which Floo I could use because when you’ve had a drink sometimes you don’t want to use the tight ones—or the turny ones or—”

Ginny snapped, “Ron, if you could get to the point before we all strangle you?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t run away—he’s having a quiet moment— he’s got himself an older girlfriend—”

“An older girlfriend?” asked Harry, shocked. 

“And a cracking one at that—gorgeous silver hair,” he explained. “Saw them sneaking across the grounds together, holding hands. Scorpius was with them. Must’ve been the girl Myrtle mentioned. Nice to see my love potion being used well, I thought.”

The tension drained slowly out of the room. Harry didn’t seem convinced, however. A thought occurred to him. “Her hair—” he began, “was it silver and blue?”

“That’s it—silver, blue—yup,” said Ron, closing his eyes to remember.

“He’s talking about Delphi Diggory, said Harry. “Niece of—Amos Diggory.”

“This is about Cedric again?” said Ginny, frustrated.

Ron thought about Amos for a second. He lived near the Diggorys in Ottery St. Catchpole. He knew their family pretty well. But he’d never heard of Delphi Diggory, and for good reason. “Hang on—” he said. “Amos doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

The tension returned to the room in an instant. Ginny looked to Harry, who looked to Hermione, who stood and grabbed her coat. “Fleur!” she shouted out the door. “Cancel the goblins.”


	57. Blood and Water

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 18: Blood and Water

Harry and Draco marched together down the halls of St. Oswald’s Home for Old Witches and Wizards. Once they reached Amos’s door, they took out their wands and braced themselves. They pushed open the door, finding Amos sitting alone at his desk. Draco tucked away his wand as Amos looked at them startled, but Harry swept the room.

“Amos, where’s Delphi?” Harry asked with urgency. When it was obvious Delphi wasn’t hiding beneath his bedsheets or curtains, he tucked his wand away.

“Harry Potter, and what can I do for you, sir?” said Amos, barely present. “And Draco Malfoy. I am blessed.”

“I know my son has been trying to help you,” said Harry.

“Such a kind boy,” said Amos, his attention drifting slowly away.

Draco got to his knees, trying to recapture Amos’s attention. “Amos, we need to know who this supposed Delphini Diggory is.”

“Why, she’s my niece,” Amos explained.

“She can’t be, Amos,” said Harry softly. “Neither you nor your wife had any brothers or sisters.”

Amos scratched his head and muttered, “Why... yes, I suppose that’s true. How peculiar. She came in one afternoon and introduced herself as my niece. She was so kind, always willing to hear me ramble on about Cedric... I don’t know why... I never realised...”

Draco stood and said to Harry only somewhat discreetly, “The old fool’s gone senile.”

“He must have been bewitched,” Harry told Draco.

“Couldn’t be, Mr. Potter,” said Amos. “She’s a squib, you see.”

“I think it’s safe to say Delphi has spread a fair amount of lies,” said Harry. “Right now she’s with our sons, and they’re in danger. If you know anything...”

Amos wracked his memory, doing so with some difficulty. “Well, I know she kept a room here at St. Oswald’s. I don’t know what you might find there, but I hope it helps return your sons to you.”

Draco turned to Harry. “We need to find out who she is—now.”

Harry nodded, and the two left the room on what felt like an endless wild goose chase.


	58. Flesh and Blood

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 19: Flesh and Blood

Delphi dragged Albus and Scorpius onto the Quidditch pitch, throwing them aside. She stood under the moon, revelling in her transformation, full of confidence and power.

“What are we doing on the Quidditch pitch?” asked Albus as he got to his feet.

Delphi said nothing. She took out the Time-Turner and began to set the dial.

“The Triwizard Cup,” said Scorpius. “They placed it in the Quidditch pitch for the maze task. It was a Portkey to take Harry to Voldemort.”

Delphi turned to them, smiling menacingly. “Yes, I will take the Portkey for myself and be reunited with my master. And with me by his side, he will be more powerful, unstoppable.”

“But Voldemort won’t have been reborn,” said Albus desperately. “He needed Dad’s blood as part of his ritual.”

“No,” said Scorpius darkly, remembering how in the other world, Voldemort used Dumbledore’s blood instead. “He needed blood of the enemy.”

“That’s right,” said Delphi proudly. “And who do I have here but Harry Potter’s own flesh and blood? The Dark Lord will still take Potter’s blood, but without strengthening the magic that protects Harry from Voldemort. And with my flesh, the flesh of his most loyal servant, he will become even more powerful.”

Albus struggled to understand her plan. “But if he kills my father, I’ll never be born.”

“It’s a paradox,” Scorpius explained. “How could Albus help if he was never born?”

Delphi laughed. “Why would Voldemort want to kill Harry once he learns Harry carries part of his soul? The sequence of events might change, but the result will stay the same—I will make sure of it.”

“And you’re sure you will still be born?” asked Scorpius.

“My master attempted to recruit a community of Veela to his army. After the third time they refused to join him, he slaughtered them. Amongst their corpses he discovered a Harpy egg that had been incubating in the magic of the Veela, and decided when it hatched, it would make a faithful and powerful weapon. He kept my egg near him as he slept so that I may also take in his magic and become stronger still. Once I hatched, I was loyal to only him. I need only retrieve my egg and bestow it upon him.”

Albus summoned all his courage. “One problem—you can’t work the Time-Turner. No matter what you threaten, we won’t obey you. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Whatever you want us to do.”

Delphi let out a blood-curdling laugh. “Of course you will.” Her wings expanded as she flew toward Scorpius, grabbing his throat into her claw and lifting him into the air.

“No!” Albus shouted.

Scorpius struggled, but managed to spit directly into her eye. “Do your worst!” he dared her.

“I will!” said Delphi. She dropped him, and backhanded him with her fierce talons. He plummeted to the ground, his face covered in blood, but he managed to pull himself back up.

“Stop,” begged Albus. “Please.”

“That all you got?” said Scorpius with a fearlessness bordering on stupidity.

“I will...” began Albus.

“Scorpius? Albus?” came a voice. Craig Bowker Jr. ran onto the Quidditch pitch. “Everyone’s looking for you—” He caught sight of Delphi and stepped back.

“Craig. Get away,” demanded Albus. “Get help!”

“What’s happening,” asked Craig. “What’s _that_?”

“Enough!” cried Delphi. 

As though she were swatting a fly, she flung a fireball at Craig, propelling him backwards far across the field. His body hit the ground, and remained there motionless.

“Did you not understand?” said Delphi menacingly as she walked to Albus. “These are not childish games we are playing here. You are useful to me. Your friends are not.”

Albus didn’t respond. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Craig’s lifeless corpse. His mind burned in an unrelenting hell.

Delphi continued, “You’re much more skilled at Occlumency than your father; I had difficulty combing your mind for its secrets. It took me a long time to learn your weakness, Albus Potter. I thought it was pride, I thought it was the need to impress your father, but then I realised your weakness is the same as your father’s: you would let the world collapse rather than hurt the ones you love. You will do exactly as you’re told, otherwise Scorpius will die, just like that _spare_ did.”

Albus looked to Scorpius and his heart ached. Scorpius was forced to live without Albus, but Albus couldn’t imagine his life without Scorpius. 

Delphi grabbed Scorpius by the arm and walked toward Albus. “Time will be re-written,” she said. “Voldemort will not be defeated. The Augurey will sit at his side.” Delphi held the Time-Turner out to Albus.

“Albus, don’t do it...” pleaded Scorpius.

“She’s right, Scorpius,” Albus capitulated, his heart heavy. “I can’t let her hurt you.”

“The Time-Turner is set, Potter,” commanded Delphi. “Now!”

Albus’s hand hovered over the Time-Turner for a moment. His heart pounded. His mind reeled. His eyes began to water. His hand fell to the surface of the Time-Turner.

Again through time they travelled.


	59. The Savage Maze

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 20: The Savage Maze

“Ladies and gentlemen—boys and girls—I give you—the greatest—the fabulous—the one—and the only TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT.”

Raucous cheering emerged from the stands of the Quidditch pitch at the sound of Ludo Bagman’s commentating. Hedges engulfed Albus, Scorpius, and Delphi, towering over them and moving constantly. Delphi pushed Albus and Scorpius forth, and they reluctantly walked on.

“If you’re from Hogwarts. Give me a cheer.”

There was a loud cheering from Hogwarts students as Delphi moved the boys left at an intersection.

“If you’re from Durmstrang—give me a cheer.”

The Durmstrang students roared. A giant spider crept over a hedge and leapt at Albus. Before it could reach him, Delphi struck it with a bolt of fire, leaving it clicking in agony as it writhed, burning on the ground.

“AND IF YOU’RE FROM BEAUXBATONS GIVE ME A CHEER.”

The Beauxbatons students cheered enthusiastically just as a hedge closed in upon the boys and their captor. Albus tried to use this as an opportunity to escape, but Delphi grabbed them and pulled them through before it could separate them.

Bagman laughed. “The French, finally showing us what they’re capable of there. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you—the final of the Triwizard tasks. A maze of mysteries, a disease of uncontrollable darkness, for this maze—it lives. It lives.”

The hedges shifted again. Delphi threw the boys against a hedge to avoid Viktor Krum, who passed by with his wand at the ready, looking particularly bloodthirsty.

Bagman’s voiced continued to echo throughout the stadium. “And why risk this living nightmare? Because inside this maze is a Cup—and not just any Cup—yes, the Triwizard trophy stands within this vegetation.”

“Where is it?” Delphi squawked. “Where is it? I brought us in close to the centre of the maze...”

Scorpius leapt aside as thorny vines whipped out from a hedge to block off the path behind them.

“The hedges want to kill us too?” said Scorpius as he caught his breath. “This gets better and better.”

“Keep moving or face the consequences,” demanded Delphi.

Ludo Bagman’s dramatic commentating continued, “The perils are plentiful, but the prizes are palpable. Who will fight their way through? Who will fall at the final hurdle? What heroes do we have within our midst? Only time will tell, ladies and gentlemen, only time will tell.”

“This is hopeless, Delphi,” Albus insisted. “We won’t make it in five minutes.”

“Then we’ll try again,” she replied. “And we’ll keep trying until we get the cup. And once I’m united with the Dark Lord, I will destroy the Time-Turner and keep us here permanently.”

A fierce wind blew through the maze, followed by the hedges shifting faster than before. Albus, Scorpius, and Delphi were immediately separated as the hedges moved and shook and grew and receded, all the while Bagman’s commentating went on, only adding to the chaos.

“Now let me remind you of the current standings! Tied in first place—Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter. In second place—Mr. Viktor Krum! And in third place— _sacré bleu_ , Miss Fleur Delacour.”

One moment Albus saw Scorpius, then the hedges immediately closed them off, then he saw Delphi briefly, then a Dementor, then Krum. He tried his best to fight through the lashing limbs unarmed, but all he got from his struggle were cuts and bruises. As the hedges shifted again, Scorpius appeared leaping through an opening. Albus grabbed him, and the two made off at a run.

“Where did she go?” Albus asked.

“I don’t know,” said Scorpius. “But we need to get back to her.”

Some vines lashed out at them, nearly tripped them up. They narrowly avoided them and ran onward.

“Are you kidding? She’d kill us!” Albus shouted. “She won’t go to Voldemort without me. Or my blood, that is.”

“We need to keep her from changing the past,” reasoned Scorpius. “We can stall her—wait out the five minutes. She can’t use the Time-Turner without us.”

“Good plan,” agreed Albus as the two stopped at a dead end. “Then why are we running?”

They took a moment to catch their breath. Scorpius looked at Albus with a pained expression.

“Albus, I need to tell you something important,” said Scorpius nervously.

“You wait until _now_ to share something important?” remarked Albus.

“Shut up,” said Scorpius, struggling to find his nerve. “It’s just that... I meant what I said before—back when I said I’d fallen in love with you. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to change things between us. You’re my best mate. Our friendship is more important to me than anything. But if we’re about to die, I wanted you to know that... you’re not difficult to love, Albus Severus Potter.”

Albus’s mind reeled. He didn’t know how to take this information. He’d almost sworn he’d misunderstood him.

“You love me?” asked Albus.

“Yes,” said Scorpius confidently. “And I know this probably puts you in an awkward position, but if you could say something, that’d be great. There might be an enraged Harpy trying to kill me, but this is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Albus was stunned. Part of him felt like Scorpius was saying this as some sort of poorly-timed joke. Another part of him—a deep, undefinable part—felt like it didn’t bear saying at all. Albus looked at Scorpius, as though for the first time, and some of the chaos in his head began to clear, like missing pieces of a puzzle were snapping into place. He was touched. After how poor of a friend Albus must have been, Scorpius still wanted to protect their friendship, no matter how much it pained him.

“This doesn’t have to change anything,” said Albus, placing his hand on Scorpius’s shoulder. The two smiled at each other, and something moved in Albus’s chest that he didn’t notice before.

Flames rose up from behind the hedges as Delphi flew into the air.

“You poor creatures,” she cackled. She threw a fireball toward them, knocking them to the ground. “Thinking you can escape me. You will do what you’re told.”

“No,” said Scorpius boldly. “We won’t.”

“You think you can fight me?” taunted Delphi.

“No, but we can defy you,” said Scorpius, getting to his feet. “If we lay down our lives to do so.”

“Insolent child!” shouted Delphi, throwing a bolt of fire at Scorpius, but he managed to dodge out of the way.

“Scorpius!” cried Albus.

“You wanted a test, Albus, this is it, and we’re going to pass it,” said Scorpius, wiping the dirt and blood off his face. “We’re fighting for our own world now. We’re dead either way. But we can go down fighting to protect everyone else.” Scorpius faced her, defiant and radiant with confidence and courage. His hair unkempt, his skin filthy, and his bravery unyielding, Scorpius was almost unrecognisable, and yet somehow familiar. Watching him, Albus felt a rumbling in his chest, like a lion trying to claw its way free.

“Then you will die,” said Delphi.

Scorpius looked to Albus and the lion roared. “Yes. We will,” said Albus, summoning a strength he didn’t know he possessed. “And we’ll do so gladly knowing it’s stopped you.”

Livid, Delphi rose into the air. Her claws burst into flame as she prepared a deadly fireball. “No more threats! Say goodbye to your only friend, Albus Potter!”

Albus jumped in front of Scorpius, shielding him. But as Delphi raised her hand to attack, a voice shouted from behind the hedge, “ _Stupify_!” The spell hit Delphi, knocking her back into the air. “ _Incarcerous_!” the voice shouted again, and ropes flew through the air, binding Delphi as she fell to the ground.

Albus and Scorpius looked at one another in astonishment as Cedric Diggory stepped out from behind a hedge.

“Are you okay?” Cedric asked, warily keeping his wand at the ready.

“Cedric?” said Scorpius, astonished.

“I heard screaming, I had to come,” Cedric explained. “Are you an obstacle? Part of the task?”

Albus thought quickly. “Uh, yes,” he said, trying to sound official. “You have done well by saving us.”

“Am I free to go?” asked Cedric.

“Um... no,” said Albus, as an idea came to him. “You have one last trial. You must share with us your fondest memory of your father.”

“That’s it?” asked Cedric.

“That’s it,” replied Albus.

“Easy—when he came to my first Quidditch game,” said Cedric, recalling the memory as though it happened only moments ago. “We lost. Badly. But he cheered me on the whole time, and he was still so proud of me afterwards it helped take away the sting. Any time things go badly for me, I think back to that—of how proud he was of me, no matter what.” Albus smiled, thinking Amos would be most happy to hear this. Scorpius smiled too, but Cedric looked at them awkwardly. “Is that good enough?”

“Yes. You’re free to continue,” said Albus, but his words carried a weight of dread as he knew the fate that awaited Cedric.

“Wicked. Thanks,” said Cedric, and he walked off.

Albus called out before Cedric rounded a hedge. “Cedric—” Cedric stopped and turned toward Albus. “Your dad loves you very much.”

“What?” asked Cedric, confused.

“It’s important that you know that,” said Albus.

Cedric nodded. “Okay. Um. Thank you,” he said, then disappeared as the hedges moved to close him off.

Another hedge moved, revealing Delphi holding the Time-Turner as it began to spin.

“Albus, the Time-Turner!” yelled Scorpius.

She looked at them with a sinister smile as she quickly turned the dials.

“She’s changing the date on it!” said Albus.

“Quick! Grab it!” shouted Scorpius as he and Albus both leapt at Delphi, just as they were both pulled through time.

Something was different. They were jerked haphazardly one way and another as time spun in different directions all at once.

“Albus...” called Scorpius, his voice echoing through the years. His expression horrified, his eyes directed Albus to the Time-Turner. Scorpius’s hand laid on the surface, activating it.

Time stopped abruptly, throwing all three of them in different directions. Delphi let out an ear-splitting cry. She stumbled to her feet in agony as her left arm flailed limply: it was broken.

“What happened?” Albus asked Scorpius as he looked around, seeing that they had not returned to the same time they departed.

“I activated it. By accident,” admitted Scorpius, horrified. “I was just trying to change it—trying to stop her—”

“Stop me?” said Delphi, her voice hoarse and furious. “You think you can stop me? I am done with this defective trinket. I’m done with trying to use annoying, incompetent creatures for anything. I planned to be part of the Dark Lord’s ascension, but now you’ve forced my hand. Time to try something new.”

She raised the Time-Turner in the air as her claw began to blaze. Albus and Scorpius ran apart, knowing what was to come next. Delphi threw an almighty, explosive fireball at them that knocked them across the field in a cloud of fire and smoke and ash. Delphi took to the sky, flying unevenly and screeching in pain.

Albus laid motionless on the ground. He couldn’t see for the smoke, and what he could see was distant and blurred. He fought through the pain, trying to remain conscious, but unable to will himself to move. The smoke cleared. Silence filled the moonlit Quidditch pitch. And then he coughed. He struggled to his knees, then to his feet, coughing harder. He dragged himself to where the fireball made its impact. The Time-Turner was utterly destroyed.

“No...” wheezed Albus. “No... she can’t...” He looked across the pitch. Scorpius still laid face-down on the ground. He ran as best as he could to him. “Scorpius? Scorpius?” He turned Scorpius over and put his ear to his heart. “Heartbeat. Scorpius? Can you hear me? I can’t lose you, Scorpius. Please...”

A cough. Scorpius coughed again, then again as he slowly made his way to a seating position. Albus hugged him tightly.

“Where is she?” he asked feebly. “Where’s the Time-Turner?”

“Destroyed,” said Albus plainly. “She destroyed it and flew away, but she’s injured. We’re stuck here. In time. Wherever in time we are. Whatever it is she’s planning to do.”

“We’re still at Hogwarts,” said Scorpius as he got to his feet. “At the Quidditch pitch.”

“And we need to go after her—find out what she’s planning,” said Albus. “But how?”

They looked around. Scorpius spotted a rack of hanging broomsticks at the side of the pitch. “Albus, when was the last time you flew a broom?” he asked.

“Not since I was a kid,” said Albus, worried about what idea Scorpius had.

“Then it looks like I’m driving,” said Scorpius as he walked toward the brooms.

“Since when can you fly a broom?”

“It’s apparently a hidden talent of mine,” said Scorpius slyly. He straddled the broom and motioned for Albus to join him. “Let’s go.”

Albus cautiously hopped on the broom, holding on tightly to Scorpius. Suddenly (and inexpertly), Scorpius shot into the air on the broomstick, giving chase to the Harpy.


	60. The Cursed Child

## Part 2 - Act 3

### Scene 21: The Cursed Child

“It must have been a Confundus Charm she used on him,” said Harry as he, Draco, Ron and Ginny entered Delphi’s room. “Or she modified his memory somehow.”

Wooden panels covered the walls and upon it hung a lone lamp. Whatever they hoped to find in her room was not hidden in plain sight, in fact, the room was bare except for the bed. Ron took a seat on the bed as Hermione entered.

“I’ve just checked in with the Ministry—but there’s no record of her,” she said. “She’s a shadow.”

“None of the staff could find her documentation,” said Ginny. “They’ve never even seen her use a wand. Though she was apparently very popular with the male staff and borders.”

“Maybe she’s part-Veela, like Fleur?” suggested Ron. “ _She_ never needed spells to make men go loopy.”

“Speaking from experience, there, Ron?” teased Ginny.

Draco waved his wand. “ _Specialis Revelio_!” The lamp flickered anticlimactically and Ron groaned. “Well, it was worth a try,” said Draco frustrated, “what are you waiting for? We know nothing, so we just have to hope this room reveals something.”

Ginny looked around hopelessly. “Where can she have hidden anything? It’s quite a spartan room.”

Ron stood, examining the walls. “These panels, these panels must conceal something.”

“Or the bed does,” said Draco, as he started to turn out the bed. The others began examining the walls.

Ron knocked on the panels, shouting, “What you hiding? What you got?” To everyone’s surprise, the wall knocked back. “There’s something here!”

Draco and Harry moved the bed aside and Ginny pointed her wand at the wall. “ _Reducto_!” 

The wall exploded into rubble. When the dust cleared, the opening revealed a cage hidden behind the wall. They looked in the cage to find a old woman, frail and emaciated, looking desperately at them.

“Are you okay?” asked Harry.

Draco took out his wand, pointing it at the woman. “Potter, that’s Euphemia Rowle. She and her husband are Death Eater loyalists.”

She spoke in a feeble, desperate voice, “Please... please, Mr. Potter. Save me. Save me from her.”

“Who is she?” asked Harry. “Who is Delphini? We’ll help you, but you need to tell us everything you know.”

“She calls herself ‘The Augurey’,” Euphemia began spitefully, but also afraid. “She’s a foul Harpy, imbued with the magic of Veela and Voldemort. I raised her, kept her in a cage. Then when she was old enough, she broke free and caged me instead—hauling me around to brew potions and cast spells.”

“You raised her?” asked Hermione. “Why?”

She continued, struggling to relive the memory. “Voldemort kept her egg close to him. No one but I knew the egg’s importance. I buried the egg with Voldemort after his defeat so that she would absorb as much of the Dark Lord’s power as possible. When she hatched two months later, I took her in and raised her as my own. I was a fool. Since Voldemort was dead, I thought my home would become her new nest. But she remained loyal only to him.”

“So _she_ was the one rallying Voldemort’s army,” realised Hermione.

“And more. Raising an army wasn’t enough for her. She became obsessed with wanting to protect Voldemort from his fate. She demanded the Death Eaters begin work on a Time-Turner. She was unhinged. The Death Eaters grew to fear her. They hid their work from her. They hid themselves from her. She had a better control of beasts than witches and wizards. And then she heard the rumours that the Ministry found the Time-Turner.”

“Then why has she taken our sons?” asked Draco, refusing to lower his wand.

Euphemia retreated into her cage, afraid of her own words. “She hatched a plan to retrieve the Time-Turner by convincing the fool Amos Diggory that he could weasel the Time-Turner from Harry. When Harry refused, his son showed up and offered his help, so she accepted. She indulged young Potter’s heroism to make sure he would use the Time-Turner to take her back in time. She desired to take Albus to Voldemort, to use him and herself as the flesh and blood components of his ritual of rebirth, strengthening his power. I fear... there is no limit to the lengths she will go to.”

Ginny clasped her hands to her mouth, stricken with horror. “No...” she whimpered, as she stepped backwards into the wall. The hanging lamp fell and extinguished the light. 

The room grew darker and more desperate, and the darkness seemed to transform the room itself into a void, as though Harry had walked into one of his nightmares. But the darkness revealed another secret—words that were etched into every corner of the darkness. Words that struck Harry with a dread he’d never thought he’d feel again.

Hermione read, “‘I will rebirth the Dark. I will bring back my father.’”

“Her _father_?” said Draco indignantly. “She’s mad. And she’s taking our sons to Voldemort.”

Harry felt Ginny’s hands close on his as he read the words, over and over in his mind. “No, no, no,” he trembled. “Anything but this.”


	61. An Impossible Search

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 1: An Impossible Search

Harry woke, finding his bed empty. Hermione insisted to Harry and Ginny that they should return home to rest. Harry agreed, partly because he was already exhausted from the restless nights chasing Albus, but also because there was a small hope that clues to save Albus would be revealed to him in a dream. With Delphi now lost in the past and unable to lurk in the shadows of his dreams, however, it made sense that no useful information appeared to him that night. Harry felt helpless. He wanted more than anything to believe all hope was not lost, but searching for someone lost in time seemed like an impossible task, even for him.

He struggled to get out of bed. He laid still beneath the sheets, trying desperately to convince himself that the events of the past few months had all been an elaborate and poorly contrived dream. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t change reality through sheer willpower. He threw off the duvet and slowly crept out of bed.

Ginny stood in the hallway, quietly sobbing as she stared at Albus’s empty bedroom. It remained in the same condition since Albus departed for Hogwarts: bed unmade, clothes hanging out of his wardrobe, Muggle trinkets piled on his desk, Harry’s blanket tossed carelessly into the Love Potion. Hallows’ Eve was soon upon him, but Harry didn’t know if he could find the strength to enter Albus’s room to retrieve his mother’s blanket. 

Harry embraced Ginny to try to comfort her but finding himself in just as much need of comfort. They held one another tightly, and even Harry couldn’t restrain the tears from his eyes. They walked to the kitchen together to have breakfast but, finding neither of them had much of an appetite, they spent the morning reading concerned letters from Lily, James, and the whole Weasley clan. Bill offered to keep an eye out for any Time-Turners in the Gringotts vaults, Percy started reading all the historical text about Voldemort he could find for any trace of Albus and Scorpius, and James took it upon himself to jinx anyone who insulted his brother. 

Hermione arrived to escort Harry and Ginny to the Ministry for an Extraordinary General Meeting, but also to inform them of all the work she had put in overnight to find Albus and Scorpius. She had many plans and ideas, but none of them included information on Albus’s location or ways to find him.

Draco was waiting for them at the Ministry of Magic when they arrived. Ron arrived shortly after, having just dropped off Hugo with his grandparents and filling them in. Hermione briefed Harry on the meeting as they headed to it, but her words were distant and unintelligible as his mind was preoccupied only with grief. When they reached the meeting room, they found it already filled with a rowdy crowd, and growing still as Hermione and Harry reached the stage. They waited a few more moments as concerned witches and wizards filled the room to capacity. Hermione raised her hand for silence, and was surprised when the room complied.

“Thank you,” she said. She continued, speaking carefully, “I’m so pleased many of you were able to make my—second—Extraordinary General Meeting. I’ve got some things to say—I ask that we deal with questions—and there will be a lot of questions—after I speak.

“As many of you know, a body has been found at Hogwarts. His name was Craig Bowker. He was a good boy. We have no firm information who was responsible for the act yesterday but we searched St. Oswald's. There, we discovered a Death Eater who has brought to light some deeply troubling information. It would appear Voldemort was in possession of a Harpy egg before his death that has been imbibed with his own terrible magic. That egg hatched many years ago, and the Harpy it produced believes herself to be Voldemort’s heir. It is our understanding that she is the source of the resurgence of Voldemort’s followers in a plot to resurrect the Dark Lord.”

Gasps and murmurs trickled through the room. Professor McGonagall stepped forward and asked, “And is she now in custody?”

“Professor, she did ask for no questions,” said Harry dully.

“It’s fine, Harry,” said Hermione with humility. “No, professor, that’s where this gets worse. I’m afraid we’ve no means of taking her into custody. Or indeed, stopping her from doing anything. She’s out of our reach.”

“We can’t—look for her?” asked McGonagall.

Hermione braced herself. “We have good reason to believe—she’s hidden herself—in time.”

The room erupted with shock as everyone at once seemed to have something to say on the matter. McGonagall’s say, however, was the loudest and most piercing. “Of all the reckless stupid things, you kept the Time-Turner even now?”

“Professor, I assure you—” began Hermione.

“Shame on you, Hermione Granger,” reprimanded McGonagall crossly.

Hermione flinched at her ire, but couldn’t bring herself to respond. On the other hand, Harry decided Hermione shouldn’t have to bear the blame alone.

“No, she doesn’t deserve that,” insisted Harry. “You have a right to be angry. You all do. But this is not all Hermione’s fault. My son helped steal the Time-Turner from the Ministry’s possession.”

“Our son,” proclaimed Ginny as she climbed onto the stage and grabbed Harry’s hand. “He may have been influenced by Veela-like magic, but that does not excuse his actions and we take full accountability for him.”

“Your solidarity is admirable, but it doesn’t make your negligence negligible,” said McGonagall, calming slightly.

Draco stepped onto the stage. “Then it’s a negligence I too should face,” he said boldly, drawing gasps from the crowd. “Hermione and Harry have done nothing wrong but try and protect us all. If they’re guilty then I am too.” 

Hermione smiled softly, moved. Draco responded with a short nod.

“Just to say—” began Ron as he eagerly fumbled his way onto the stage to stand next to Hermione, “I didn’t know about much of it so I can’t take responsibility—and I’m pretty sure my kids had nothing to do with it—but if this lot are standing up here then so am I.”

As the crowd began rumbling, Ginny spoke out, “No one can know where they are—whether they’re together or apart. I trust that our sons will be doing all they can to stop her, but...”

A sudden uproar in the crowd cut her off.

“We haven’t given up,” Hermione continued from where Ginny left off, silencing the crowd once again. “We’ve gone to the giants. The trolls. Everyone we can find. The Aurors are out flying, searching, talking to those who know secrets, following those who won’t reveal secrets.”

Harry stepped forward, looking grimly over the crowd. “But there is one truth we can’t escape: That somewhere in our past a powerful creature is trying to rewrite everything we ever knew—and all we can do is wait—wait for the moment she either succeeds or fails.”

The crowd didn’t respond. A chilling silence filled the room instead.

“And if she succeeds?” asked McGonagall with a hint of terror in her voice.

Hermione replied delicately, “Then—just like that—most of the people in this room will be gone. We’ll no longer exist and Voldemort will rule again.”


	62. The New Plan

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 2: The New Plan

Before even having left Scotland, Albus grew incredibly uneasy and demanded Scorpius land the broomstick. Cautiously but jerkily, Scorpius headed downward, landing (roughly) near a train station. Albus leapt off the broomstick and tumbled into some bushes where he immediately vomited. Scorpius patted his back to try and comfort him.

“You alright, mate?” Scorpius asked when Albus finished.

“I thought flying was suppose to be your hidden talent,” snapped Albus.

“Turns out it’s pretty well hidden,” confessed Scorpius. “Plus, I’ve never ridden with passengers.”

Albus looked around once the world decided to stop dancing and come into focus. Dawn had just broke, as a sliver of pink peeked over the horizon. A gruff-looking Stationmaster left his booth, checking his pocket watch. “You should go talk to the Stationmaster,” he suggested.

“‘Hello, Mr. Stationmaster. Mr. _Muggle_ ,’” Scorpius said to Albus sarcastically. “‘Question: Did you see a flying bird lady passing here? And by the way, what year is it?’ We just ran away from Hogwarts because we were frightened of upsetting things, but this is okay, is it?”

Albus stood and rolled his eyes. Being told off by Scorpius got him wondering about his dad. “You know what annoys me most of all?” he asked glumly. “Dad will think we did it deliberately.”

“Albus. Really?” moaned Scorpius. “I mean, really really? We’re—trapped—lost—in time—probably permanently—and you’re worrying what your dad might think about it? I will never understand the two of you.”

Albus brushed off the dirt from his clothes. “There’s a lot to understand. Dad’s pretty complicated.”

“And you’re not?” bemused Scorpius. He teased, “Not to question your taste in women, but you fancied... well...”

“I didn’t _fancy_ her!” insisted Albus, but the pinkness of his cheeks betrayed him. “It was that Veela magic. Like Fleur,” he suggested innocently.

“What is it with you and older women?” laughed Scorpius. 

Albus punched Scorpius playfully as the Stationmaster approached them. He spoke in a thick, unintelligible Scottish accent, “Ye ken th’ auld reekie train is running late, boys?”

“Sorry?” said Scorpius.

“If you’re waiting oan th’ auld reekie train, you’ll need tae ken it’s running late. Train wirks oan th’ line. It’s a’ oan th’ amended time buird.”

Albus and Scorpius looked to one another and shrugged, each unable to understand him. Frustrated, the man sighed, and pulled out the train’s timetable, with the current station’s time altered. 

“Late,” said the man plainly, pointing to the amended time. 

Albus took the timetable and examined it closely as Scorpius, dumbfounded, watched the Stationmaster return to his post. As Albus found the date, his eyes lit up.

“I know where she is,” proclaimed Albus.

“You understood that?” asked Scorpius, still trying to work out the Stationmaster’s words.

Albus held out the paper and pointed to the date. “Look at the date. On the timetable.”

“‘The 30th October, 1981,’” he read. “Day before Hallows’ Eve, thirty-nine years ago. But—why is she? Oh.” His face fell as the date dawned on him.

“The death of my grandparents,” said Albus. “The attack on my dad as a baby... The moment when Voldemort’s curse rebounded on himself. She’s not trying to be part of his rebirth—she’s trying to stop him from ever being destroyed in the first place.”

“We need to get to Godric’s Hollow,” urged Scorpius, mounting the broom. “Now.”

Albus nodded, and swallowed his nerves as he mounted the broom and held onto Scorpius. He nuzzled his face into the small of Scorpius’s back and braced himself as they took off.

  
  



	63. The Potters’ Secret

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 3: The Potters’ Secret

As they neared Godric’s Hollow some time in the afternoon, Scorpius landed in the woods on the outskirts as to not be spotted arriving on broomstick. Scorpius hid the broom beneath some bushes as Albus took a minute to catch his breath from the trip. After he had gotten his bearings, he and Scorpius walked toward the village.

They met a cobblestone road in the woods and followed it along. Soon enough, the path took them to the entrance to Godric’s Hollow. The streets were packed with Muggles going about their business. They laughed and gossipped and fretted about the sorts of benign, mundane things Muggles fret about, all without any indication that they were under threat of attack. If anything, they seemed in high spirits as they prepared for Halloween. They decorated their cottages with Jack-o-Lanterns and papercraft spiders and bats and ghouls. Children showed off their costumes to one another as teenagers ran around causing mischief.

“Well, there’s no visible signs of attack that I can see...” said Scorpius.

“This is Godric’s Hollow?” observed Albus in awe. He watched the Muggles with delight, thinking this was a wonderful place for the Potters to have settled down.

“Your dad’s never taken you?” asked Scorpius.

“No,” admitted Albus, “he tried to a few times but I refused.” In retrospect, Albus wished he’d agreed, particularly since the circumstances that finally forced him to visit weren’t ideal.

Scorpius led Albus out onto the Town Square. “Well, there’s no time for a tour—we have a murderous Harpy to save the world from—but regard: The Church, St. Jerome’s...” He indicated to a grand church that looked rather like an undersized cathedral.

“It’s magnificent,” marvelled Albus.

“And St. Jerome’s graveyard is supposedly magnificently haunted,” he said with a discernible thrill before pointing out to the middle of the square, “and that’s where the statue of Harry and his parents will be—”

“My dad has a statue?” Albus interrupted, surprised (though he knew he perhaps shouldn’t be).

“Oh. Not yet. But he will,” said Scorpius. He then added with a bit of strain in his voice, “Hopefully.” They turned down a road and (with a twinge of excitement) Scorpius indicated to one of the houses. “And this—this house is where Bathilda Bagshot lived, lives...”

“ _The_ Bathilda Bagshot?” remarked Albus. “ _A History of Magic_ Bathilda Bagshot?”

“The very same,” said Scorpius. The door to her house started to open and Albus found himself being pulled down an alley by Scorpius. “Oh my, that’s her,” he squealed at a half-whisper as they watched Bathilda Bagshot leaving her home, carrying a stack of books that seemed too heavy for a witch of her age to hold. When she had disappeared down the road, Scorpius jumped excitedly and trilled with his utmost-Scorpiousness, “Wow. _Squeak_. My geekness is a-quivering.”

Albus laughed and they continued onward. Scorpius looked up and down the road. Suddenly, Albus’s heart leapt as he saw his father leaving one of the houses, adjusting his scarf. “Scorpius! It’s my dad!” he exclaimed.

“Where?” asked Scorpius. 

“Just there,” said Albus, pointing at the house, but Scorpius looked around, confused.

A beautiful red-haired woman pushing a baby in a pushchair exited the same house, and was kissed by the man Albus presumed to be Harry. Immediately, he understood why he was mistaken, and he grabbed Scorpius to hide behind a stoop.

“Wait, thats... My grandma and grandad,” Albus explained. “That’s Lily, James, and baby Harry.”

“Albus, I don’t see anyone,” said Scorpius, frustrated. “Yet... I know their house _is_ there...”

“But they’re _here_. They’re alive,” said Albus excitedly. Lily took Harry into her arms and sat him down on a blanket in the garden. James sat down next to them and began producing bubbles from his wand, which caused Harry to giggle as he reached out and popped them. “This means... Delphi hasn’t found them.”

“They must be protected by a...” Scorpius’s face lit up as he realised the source of his confusion. “Of course! The Fidelius Charm. It’s still active. Their location is hidden to those who aren’t entrusted with their secret. If I can’t see them, neither can she!”

“I guess the Fidelius Charm extends to the descendants of those it protects,” reasoned Albus. “She must be waiting for Voldemort to arrive. He knows the secret. She’s going to try and stop him.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Scorpius anxiously. “Get ready to fight her? Because she’s pretty... Fierce.”

Albus took a seat on the stoop, feeling helpless and wandless. “Yes. We haven’t really thought this one through, have we? What do we do now? How do we protect my dad?”


	64. Love Blinds Us

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 4: Love Blinds Us

Harry packed his briefcase hastily, knocking over stacks of incomplete paperwork and piles of confiscated time-altering trinkets (none of which worked to any measurable degree). Interdepartmental memos were flooding into his office at such a rate that he had taken to levitating the bin directly to the entrance. The Ministry of Magic was in lockdown. Harry had dispatched the Aurors. Theodore Nott had escaped Ministry custody.

“Good evening, Harry,” said a soft, wizened voice from behind him.

Harry whipped around and saw, for the first time in the longest time, that Albus Dumbledore’s portrait was now occupied by Albus Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore, in my office, I’m honoured,” said Harry, mildly annoyed. “I must be where the action is tonight?”

“What are you doing?” asked Dumbledore.

“On top of everything, Theodore Nott’s just escaped from custody,” Harry explained, returning to his packing. “There’s a battle being raged far away and I have no way to stop it. What else can I do but pretend it’s business as usual?” Harry stopped and took a breath. He turned to the portrait. “Where have you been, Dumbledore?”

“I’m here now,” he replied.

“Here just as the battle is lost,” said Harry pointedly. “Or are you denying that Voldemort is going to return.”

“It is—possible,” said Dumbledore with some struggle.

“Go. Leave,” said Harry coolly. “I don’t want you here, I don’t need you. You were absent every time it really counted. I fought him three times without you. I’ll face him again, if needs be—alone.”

Dumbledore recoiled, hurt. “Harry, don’t you think I wanted to fight him on your behalf? I would have spared you if I could—”

“‘Love blinds us’? Do you even know what that means?” snapped Harry, his temper rising. “Do you even know how bad that advice was? My son is—my son is fighting battles for us just as I had to for you. And I have proved as bad a father to him as you were to me. Leaving him in places he felt unloved—growing in him resentments he’ll takes years to understand—”

“If you’re referring to Privet Drive, then—”

Harry’s anger burst forth. “Years— _years_ I spent there! Alone, without knowing what I was, or why I was there, without knowing that anybody cared!”

“I—did not wish to become attached to you—” said Dumbledore feebly.

“Protecting yourself, even then!” Harry turned back to his desk, unable to look at him.

“No. I was protecting you. I did not want to hurt you...” Dumbledore’s voice became frail as he began to cry, but tried to hide it. “But I had to meet you in the end... eleven years old, and you were so brave. So good. You walked uncomplainingly along the path that had been laid at your feet. Of course I loved you... and I knew that it would happen all over again... that where I loved, I would cause irreparable damage. I am no fit person to love... I have never loved without causing harm.”

Harry felt his own sadness beginning to overwhelm his anger. “You would have hurt me less if you had told me this then.”

“I was blind,” implored Dumbledore, now openly weeping. “That is what love does, I couldn’t see that you needed to hear that this closed-up, tricky, dangerous old man... loved you.”

Despite his best efforts, tears poured from Harry’s eyes. He, at once, felt sad and happy and angry and touched. “It isn’t true that I never complained,” he admitted through heavy sobbs.

“Harry, there is never a perfect answer in this messy, emotional world. Perfection is beyond the reach of humankind, beyond the reach of magic. In every shining moment of happiness is a drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again. Be honest to those you love, show your pain. To suffer is as human as to breathe.”

“You said that to me once before,” said Harry, wiping his face on his sleeve.

“It is all I have to offer you tonight,” said Dumbledore as he turned to leave his portrait.

“Don’t go!” implored Harry.

Dumbledore stopped, and spoke sympathetically to Harry. “Those that we love never truly leave us, Harry. There are things that death cannot touch. Paint... and memory... and love.”

Harry composed himself, and said finally, “I loved you too, Dumbledore.”

“I know,” said Dumbledore with a smile, and then he vanished from his frame.

Harry stood alone in his office. There was a silence. There was a warmth. There was a peace.

There was a knock.

Harry’s door swung open and Draco entered, looking curiously around the office.

“Did you know that in this other reality—the reality Scorpius saw into— _I_ was Head of Magical Law Enforcement? Maybe this room will be mine soon enough,” he joked. Harry quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks, but Draco noticed. “Are you okay?” he asked, with a very un-Draco-like sensitivity.

“Come in—I’ll give you the tour,” said Harry.

“The thing is, though—never really fancied being a Ministry man,” said Draco as he looked around Harry’s office with distaste. “Even as a child. My dad, it’s all he ever wanted—me, no.”

“What did you want to do?”

“Quidditch,” said Draco simply. He grabbed one of the trinkets that had fallen on the floor and examined it lazily. “But I wasn’t good enough. Mainly I wanted to be happy.” Draco and Harry shared a look and a nod, quietly signalling to each other that their childhood rivalries were consigned to a distant past where they belonged. Draco looked to Harry again with an awkward expression. “Sorry, I’m not very good at small talk,” he said urgently, “do you mind if we skip on to the serious business?”

“Of course,” Harry agreed. “What—serious—business?”

Draco took a second to work out what he wanted to say. “I’m here about Theodore Nott.”

“Yes, I know he’s escaped,” said Harry, grabbing his briefcase, “I was getting ready to go speak to—”

“No need,” said Draco as he stood to face Harry. “You’ll find him in the cellar of Malfoy Manor.”

You broke him out?” asked Harry as he readied his wand, pointing it at Malfoy warningly. 

“Yes,” he answered simply. Malfoy remained unmoved, as if Harry had merely pulled out a toffee to offer him.

“Why?”

“To gain his trust,” Malfoy explained, non-threatened. “I knew that the Ministry were having difficulty getting answers from him. Then I realised why. He was too scared to talk.”

“Draco,” said Harry with caution, “what is this about?”

“The Time-Turner you seized from him was curiously flawed, don’t you think? Couldn’t choose when to go back, could only last five minutes, sustaining injury upon return—”

Harry lowered his wand as he realised what Draco was up to. Slowly following Draco’s thought process, Harry arrived to the same conclusion, stating, “There would have been plenty of materials to scavenge from the Department of Mysteries. And Rowle said they hid their research from the Augurey... I knew there was a reason Hermione kept it. She must have realised there was another...”

“The Time-Turner the Ministry seized was a prototype,” concluded Draco. “Nott kept the completed one and his companions hidden, scared that Delphi might come looking. If he wouldn’t talk to the Ministry I figured he would talk to an old friend, especially if I helped him escape...”

“You could be sent to Azkaban for this, Draco,” warned Harry in an unnecessary whisper.

“You can lock me away after I save my son, then.” Draco produced from his pocket a Time-Turner, whole and complete. There were no seams, no extra bits, and no rough edges.

Harry’s heart pounded furiously as he threw on his coat. “Then we need to gather everyone and get to the Quidditch pitch right away.”

“I already went,” said Draco. “As soon as I got the Time-Turner I used it to return to the third task. They appeared in the centre of the maze. The crowd assumed the Harpy was just another one of the creatures of the task. She looked every bit as deadly as Rowle described. Our sons were incredibly brave to face her. But they never made it to the cup. They disappeared, but they didn’t reappear in our time.”

“So they’re still lost?” said Harry, his heart sinking.

“Didn’t you hear me?” said Draco. “They returned to the third task. We know exactly where they are. And with the two of us, we can stop her.”

Although tempted, Harry knew going back would be dangerous. He said, “We should count ourselves lucky that their actions already haven’t altered the present. If a fully grown Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy appeared in the maze to fight a dangerous creature for all to see, it will cause problems.”

“Then we can search elsewhere,” suggested Draco. “I love my son too much than to sit idly by while the Time-Turner is in our possession.”

“Draco... we can’t. We can’t use it,” Harry sulked.

“We have to find them—if it takes centuries,” implored Draco, “we must find our sons—”

“We have no idea where they are or when they are,” said Harry reasonably. “Searching in time when you’ve no idea where in time to search, that’s a fool’s errand. No, love won’t do it and nor will a Time-Turner, I’m afraid. It’s up to our sons now—they’re the only ones who can save us.”


	65. A Timely Message

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 5: A Timely Message

Albus sat on the stoop of Bathilda Bagshot’s home, watching James and Lily play with Harry in the garden as Scorpius paced, trying to think of a plan. They were a family at peace, who had no idea of the betrayal that revealed the secret of their location to Voldemort. For the Potters, this was an ordinary October day. The air was crisp. The leaves were orange. The sun was just beginning to approach the western horizon.

Albus’s heart swelled to see his grandparents and dad happy and whole. As he watched James levitating Harry with his wand, an idea came to Albus. “Should I tell my granddad and grandma?” asked Albus.

Scorpius stopped his pacing, considered Albus’s idea (only briefly) and then shook his head. “That they’ll never get to see their son grow up?”

“She’s strong enough—I know she is,” insisted Albus.

Lily grabbed baby Harry out of the air and tickled his tummy. Harry’s laughter filled the streets.

“I can understand why you’d be desperate to talk to her,” said Scorpius sympathetically. “But she needs to be able to beg Voldemort for Harry’s life, she needs to think he might die, and you’re the worst spoiler in the world that didn’t turn out to be true...”

“Dumbledore,” Albus then suggested. “Dumbledore’s alive. We get Dumbledore involved. We do what you did with Snape—”

Scorpius replied with doubt, “Can we risk him knowing your dad survives? That he has kids?”

Albus was almost offended. He replied, “He’s Dumbledore! He can cope with anything!”

“Albus, there have been about a hundred books written on what Dumbledore knew, how he knew it or why he did what he did,” explained Scorpius reasonably. “But what’s undoubtedly true—what he did—he needs to do—and I’m not going to risk messing with it. I was able to ask for help because I was in an alternate reality. We aren’t. We’re in the past. We can’t fix time only to create more problems—if our adventures have taught us anything, they’ve taught us that. The dangers of talking to anyone—infecting time—are too great.”

Albus stood and join Scorpius in pacing. 

“So we need to—talk to the future,” Albus pondered, trying to navigate their tricky situation. “We need to send Dad a message.”

Scorpius deliberated, “But we don’t have an owl that can fly through time. And he doesn’t have a Time-Turner.”

Albus tried to piece the threads of time together in his head. Theoretically, as long as Harry received the message, he would have years to find a way to save them. All that mattered were the next few hours until Halloween when Voldemort arrives to kill Harry Potter.

“We get a message to Dad, he’ll find a way to get back here,” said Albus. “Even if he has to build a Time-Turner himself.”

Scorpius became fidgety with excitement as he formulated a plan. “We send a memory—like a Pensieve—stand over him and send a message, hope he reaches for the memory at exactly the right moment. I mean, it’s unlikely, but... Stand over the baby—and just repeatedly shout HELP. HELP. HELP.” Albus stepped back, startled. Scorpius’s excitement began to waver as he saw Albus’s reaction. “I mean, it might traumatise the baby slightly.”

“Only slightly,” said Albus with a heavy irony.

“A bit of trauma now is nothing compared to what’s happening...” Scorpius continued, his confidence in his plan fading, “and maybe when he then thinks—later—he might remember the faces of us as we—shouted—”

“Heeeeelp!” shouted Albus, humouring Scorpius.

Albus smiled. Scorpius nodded.

“You’re right. It’s a terrible idea,” said Scorpius, resuming his pacing.

“It’s one of your worst ideas ever,” agreed Albus.

Scorpius snapped as another idea came to him. “Got it! We deliver it ourselves—we wait forty years—we deliver it—”

Albus shook his head and cut him off. “Not a chance—once Delphi has set time the way she wants she’ll send armies to try and find us—kill us—”

“So we hide in a hole?” suggest Scorpius feebly.

“As pleasurable as it will be to hide in a hole with you for the next forty years... they’ll find us,” said Albus with defeat and taking a seat back on the stoop. “And we’ll die and time will be stuck in the wrong position. No. We need something we can control, something we know he’ll get at exactly the right time. We need a—”

“There’s nothing,” said Scorpius. He sat next to Albus. “Still, if I had to choose a companion to be at the return of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you.”

“No offence, but I’d choose someone massive and really good at magic,” said Albus with a sly smile. He nudged Scorpius with his shoulder and Scorpius nudged back.

James gave Lily and Harry a kiss then returned inside. Lily stood and placed Harry back in the pram. She pulled out a familiar-looking blanket to wrap Harry in, then proceeded to smother him with kisses as he giggled. 

“His blanket,” said Albus, moved. “She’s wrapping him in his blanket.”

“Well, it is a moderately cold day,” said Scorpius.

Albus stood, trying to get a closer look but careful not to get too close. “But he said—it’s the only thing he had from her. I can see the love with which she’s put it on him—I think he’d like to know about that—I wish I could tell him.”

Scorpius stood too. He put his hands in his pockets and kicked a bit of stone on the pavements. “And I wish I could tell my dad—well, I’m not sure what. I think I’d like to tell him that I’m occasionally capable of more bravery than he might think.”

As Lily and Harry returned inside, Albus remembered how his father tried to give him that blanket, but Albus tossed it aside carelessly. It was so important to Harry, but Albus treated it like it was nothing. His heart panged with guilt, but at the same time, an idea came to him.

“Scorpius—my dad still has that blanket.”

“That won’t work,” said Scorpius with a moment’s thought. “If we write a message on it now, even really small, he’ll read it too soon. Time will be spoilt.”

Albus could see all the pieces to the puzzle in his head and he hastily cobbled them together in real time. “What do you know about pearl dust?” he asked, deep in thought. “It’s a relatively rare ingredient, isn’t it?”

“Mainly because it’s pretty expensive,” said Scorpius with some confusion. “It’s a major ingredient in love potions. What’s this about, Albus?”

“Dad and I had a fight on the day before I went to school.”

“This I am aware of,” said Scorpius, still unsure but willing to play along.

“I threw the blanket across the room. It collided with the love potion that Uncle Ron gave me as a joke.”

“Ron’s a funny guy.”

Albus closed his eyes, remembering the scene. “The potion spilt and the blanket was covered in it and I happen to know for a fact Mum hasn’t let Dad touch that room since I left it.”

“So?” asked Scorpius, completely lost.

Albus buzzed with excitement and pride. “So it’s coming up to Hallows’ Eve in their time as well as ours—and he told me he always finds that blanket, he needs to be with it on Hallows’ Eve—it was the last thing his mum gave him—so he will look for it and when he finds it...” He looked to Scorpius, sure he would catch on.

“No,” said Scorpius bluntly. “Still not getting you.”

Albus groaned. “Ron fills his love potions with too much pearl dust, so what reacts with pearl dust?”

Scorpius closed his eyes and recalled his Potions lessons. “Well, it is said that if a tincture of Demiguise and pearl dust meet... they burn.”

“And is tincture of...” Albus does his best to pronounce the word, “ _Dem-i-guise_ visible to the naked eye?”

“No.”

“So if we were to get that blanket and write on it in tincture of Demiguise, then...”

Scorpius’s eyes widened as he finally cracked it. “Nothing would react to it until it came into contact with the love potion. In your room. In the present. By Dumbledore, I love it.”

Albus resumed pacing with a new spring in his step. “We just need to work out where to find some... Demiguises.”

Scorpius ran to Bathilda Bagshot’s home with the excitement of a Niffler in Gringotts. “You know, rumour has it Bathilda Bagshot never saw the point in witches and wizards locking their doors.” He grabbed the handle and the door swung open. Scorpius screeched, unable to contain himself. “Rumour was right! Time to steal some wands and get potioning!”

They crept into the house, and in doing so almost knocked over a stack of books. The cottage was dark and cluttered with books and artifacts. They felt their way through the rooms, trying their best not to disturb anything. As Albus entered the twilight-lit hallway, he found a sculpture of a tree crafted with wands. He carefully prised two of the wands from its branches. He swung one and successfully casted a Wand-Lighting Charm. He passed the other wand to Scorpius, and the two split up. 

With Scorpius searching Bathilda’s potion stores, Albus made his way down the street to James and Lily’s house. He peered into their window, trying extra careful to avoid being seen. The family sat together at the dinner table. Harry’s pram was left unattended, with the blanket strewn across it. Quietly, Albus summoned the blanket through the window and made hard away to meet up with Scorpius.

Scorpius waved a bottle of clear liquid excitedly as Albus returned. Together, they finally stood a chance of stopping Delphi and setting time right.


	66. Hallows’ Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this scene, my decision to write the dialogue of the play word-for-word as it would be said on stage came back to bite me. I was unsure the best way to jump back and forth through time for only a few words of dialogue so I fully accept that this chapter is lacking.

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 6: Hallows’ Eve

Harry pushed open Albus’s door. He stepped inside apprehensively. He forbid himself the thought that today, on Hallows’ Eve, he would be mourning the lives of his parents and his child. As he stood in Albus’s room again, the memory of their fight returned to him as clear as though it had just taken place. He could hear Albus telling him he wished Harry wasn’t his father just as sharp and biting as the day it happened.

Ginny appeared in the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” said Harry, “I haven’t touched anything. Your shrine is preserved.” Ginny recoiled and Harry winced as he realised what he said. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.” Ginny entered the room too, but said nothing. Harry sat on Albus’s bed. “You know I’ve had some pretty terrible Hallows’ Eves—but this is undoubtedly at least the—second worst.”

“I was wrong—to blame you,” said Ginny softly. “I always accuse you of jumping to things and it was me who—Albus went missing and I assumed it was your fault. I’m sorry I did that.”

“You don’t think this is my fault?” asked Harry in mild disbelief.

“Harry, he was manipulated and kidnapped by a powerful Dark creature,” answered Ginny reasonably, “how can that be your fault?”

“I chased him away,” said Harry darkly. “I chased him to her.”

“Can we not treat this as if the battle is already lost?” insisted Ginny with a fierceness underlying her sympathetic tone.

Harry felt tears in his eyes, and the tears brought with them shame and guilt and distress. He had to force out words from his quivering throat, saying, “I’m sorry, Gin...”

“Are you not listening to me? I’m sorry too,” insisted Ginny.

“I shouldn’t have survived—” wept Harry, his voice heavy and broken, “it was my destiny to die—even Dumbledore thought so—and yet I lived. I beat Voldemort. All these people—all these people—my parents, Fred, the Fallen Fifty—and it’s me that gets to live? How is that? All this damage—and it’s my fault.”

Ginny looked at him upset, almost angry for burdening himself with their sacrifices. “They were killed by Voldemort,” she reminded him.

“But if I’d stopped him sooner? All that blood on my hands.” He looked around Albus’s room and allowed himself the thought that he forbade. “And now our son has been taken too—”

“He’s not dead,” demanded Ginny, with a strength of conviction that could bend time to her will. “Do you hear me, Harry? He’s not dead.” Ginny took Harry into her arms. 

“The Boy Who Lived,” scoffed Harry as they broke apart. “How many people have to die for the Boy Who Lived?” Harry saw his blanket on the bed and took it into his shaking hands. “This blanket is all I have, you know... of that Hallows’ Eve. This is all I have to remember them. And whilst—” Harry unfurled the blanket. The potion had long since dried, but with it left parts stained and stiff and riddled with holes. “This has got holes in it. Ron’s idiotic love potion has burnt through it, right through it. Look at this. It’s ruined. Ruined.” Heartbroken, Harry tossed the blanket across the room. 

Ginny picked it up. She looked at it for a moment with pity, and then her faced changed. “Harry . . .” she said, studying the blanket closer. 

“What?” he asked. 

Ginny displayed the blanket. Something struck him about the shape of the holes, which his wife seemed to have already caught on to. “Harry, it has—something—written—”

  


*1981*

  


“‘Dad,’” said Albus, as he wrote the word on the blanket in tincture of Demiguise.

“We’re starting with ‘Dad’?” asked Scorpius doubtfully as he held the blanket taut for Albus to write on.

“So he’ll know it’s from me,” explained Albus.

“Harry is his name,” said Scorpius. “We should start with ‘Harry’.”

“We’re starting with ‘Dad’,” said Albus firmly.

  


*Present*

  


Harry and Ginny studied the holes in the blanket with some difficulty.

“‘Dad,’ does it say, ‘Dad’?” said Harry, trying his best to decipher the writing. “It’s not that distinct...”

  


*1981*

  


“‘Dad, HELP’,” suggested Scorpius.

Albus nodded, and then carefully wrote it on the blanket, trying his best to make sure it would be legible after forty years.

  


*Present*

  


“‘Hello?’” read Ginny. “Does that say ‘Hello’? And then... ‘Good’.”

Harry looked at it again, confused. “‘Dad Hello Good Hello’? This is... a strange joke.” 

  


*1981*

  


Scorpius cast a Wand-Lighting Charm under the blanket so that Albus could study the wet patches of what he’d written so far. Albus read, “‘Dad. Help. Godric’s Hollow.’”

  


*Present*

  


“Give me that,” said Ginny, taking the blanket from Harry’s hands to read it more closely. “My eyesight is better than yours. Yes. ‘Dad Hello Good’—that’s not ‘Hello’ again—that’s ‘Hallow’ or ‘Hollow’? And then some numbers—these are clearer—‘3—1—1—0—8—1.” Is this one of those Muggle telephone numbers? Or a grid reference or a...”

“No,” said Harry, his mind swimming. The numbers sounded so familiar, and he knew why. He took the blanket back into his hands. “It’s a date,” he said excitedly as adrenaline coursed through his body. This was a message. “31st October, 1981. The date my parents were killed.”

“That doesn’t say ‘Hello’,” said Ginny as she realised what this message was about. “It says ‘Help’.”

Harry studied it a second more and finally worked out what the words were saying. “‘Dad. Help. Godric’s Hollow. 31/10/81.’ It’s a message. Clever boy left me a message.”

Harry took Ginny’s face into his hands and kissed her firmly.

“Albus wrote this?” said Ginny, smiling wide as her eyes began filling with tears.

Harry punched the air. “And he’s told me where they are and when they are and now we know where she is, we know where we can fight her.”

“We haven’t got them back again yet,” said Ginny sensibly.

“I’ll send an owl to Hermione,” he said with urgency. “You send one to Draco. Tell them to meet us at Godric’s Hollow with the Time-Turner.”

“And it is ‘us,’ okay?” Ginny demanded. “Don’t even think about going back without me, Harry.”

Harry kissed her again, this time longer and more passionately as they each positively burst with excitement and hope. 

“Of course you’re coming,” Harry agreed. “We have a chance, Ginny, and by Dumbledore—that’s all that we need—a chance.”


	67. Homecoming

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 7: Homecoming

The streets of Godric’s Hollow bustled with life. Children ran through the square in their costumes, holding bags of candy. Many of the cottages had been replaced by tall buildings, many shops had been refurbished, and St. Jerome’s Graveyard had grown significantly.

Harry and Ginny apparated in an alley obscured by a skip. Ginny moved the skip with her wand as Harry peered over to make sure there were no Muggles nearby. Together, they walked out into the village for the first time in quite a while. 

Harry had visited the village in the years since defeating Voldemort, but he always felt out of place. The home he shared with his parents for only a brief time was in ruins, and all that remained for him here were the graves of Lily and James Potter. Godric’s Hollow never quite felt like a home to him.

They approached the centre of the square where there stood the war memorial. As they approached, the memorial transformed into a statue of Lily and James holding baby Harry. Ginny marvelled at how closely Harry resembled his father.

A commotion erupted from a nearby restaurant. A group of Muggles were pushing Draco out the door, engulfed in a cloud of soot. It turned out that their pizza oven was accidentally hooked up to the Floo Network instead of a fireplace. When the Muggles found him in their kitchen, they assumed him to be an intruder. 

Ron and Hermione arrived shortly after from the main road. Hermione observed her surroundings with nostalgia. She accompanied Harry on his first visit to Godric’s Hollow, back when they were trying to defeat Voldemort. As she approached Harry, she reminisced, “Godric’s Hollow. It must be twenty years...”

A pair of Muggle children ran up to them, one dressed as a diminutive dinosaur and the other as an oversized octopus. Apparently, the children assumed this group of wizards were actually in costumes, as they held out their bags of candy greedily.

“Is it just me or are there more Muggles about...” wondered Ginny.

“It’s become quite popular as a weekend break,” explained Hermione as she pulled out some toffee from her pockets and put them in the children’s bags.

“I can see why—look at the thatched roofs,” admired Draco with an uncharacteristic delight. Ron stared at him blankly. Draco’s face lit up as he spotted a group of Muggles surrounding produce. “And is that a farmer’s market?”

Harry looked around the village, overwhelmed. His parents gave their lives protecting Harry from Voldemort, and now Harry returned to protect his own son.

Hermione approached him. “You remember when we were last here? Feels like old times.”

“Old times with a few unwelcome ponytails added to the mix,” chided Ron, who watched Draco with scepticism.

Replied Draco, “Can I just say—”

“Malfoy,” interrupted Ron, “you may be all chummy chummy with Harry, and you may have produced a relatively nice child, but you’ve said some very unfair things to and about my wife...”

“And your wife doesn’t need you fighting her battles for her,” said Hermione sternly. She gave Ron a withering look and Ron flinched.

“Fine,” said Ron, less aggressively, but still trying his best to be intimidating. “But if you say one thing about her _or_ me...”

“You’ll do what, Weasley?” dared Draco.

Ron began to reply but Hermione cut him off. “He’ll hug you,” she said looking Ron dead in the eye. “Because we’re all on the same team, aren’t we, Ron?”

They stared at each other in silence for several seconds as an unspoken argument seemed to take place in which Ron was clearly losing.

“Fine,” Ron gave in. “I, um, I think you’ve got really nice hair. Draco.”

“Thank you, husband,” said Hermione with a dignified triumph. She looked around; none of the Muggles were paying them any attention. She said urgently, “Now this seems like a good spot. Let’s do this.”

Draco pulled out the Time-Turner. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all gathered around him as he prepared to activate it. It spun wildly, faster and faster as the world began to change around them. Days and nights passed rapidly before their eyes. The number of citizens of Godric’s Hollow began to dwindle. Buildings began to regress into cottages. Seasons changed. Then the world became still once again.

“So? Has it worked?” asked Ron.


	68. Sanctuary

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 8: Sanctuary

Hours passed since Albus returned the blanket to the Potter’s home. His dad still hadn't arrived, even as the sun started to rise. Albus was determined not to give up hope, but Scorpius didn’t feel safe out in the open in broad daylight. Albus reluctantly agreed to find a place to hide until sundown.

They found an isolated shed in the graveyard of St. Jerome’s and presumed no one would be doing groundskeeping on Halloween. Scorpius sealed the door shut with his stolen wand so that they wouldn’t be discovered by accident. The shed was cramped and lit only by a small window through which they could observe the square.

They decided to take turns watching the window, but not long after Albus began his shift, Scorpius fell deep asleep with his head resting on a bag of mulch. In all the chaos, Albus had forgotten how long it had been since they’d slept. Soon, even Albus couldn’t muster the energy to keep watch, and he took a seat on an overturned bucket.

Albus couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Something stirred in him—keeping him from drifting off. It wasn’t his fear of Delphi. It wasn’t his hope of reuniting with his parents. It wasn’t the threat of Voldemort’s return. It was Scorpius. 

Scorpius laid peacefully on the floor, breathing softly as he slept. Scorpius knew who he was. He came from a family of Death Eaters, but it never stopped him from doing what he knew to be good. He wasn’t talented at magic, but he could use his intellect to solve problems where magic could not. He faced danger even when he was afraid. He was Albus’s first friend, and Scorpius protected their friendship no matter what, even when the world had gone dark and even when his feelings grew deeper.

Albus came from a family that fought Death Eaters and Voldemort, and he thought that meant he had to be a hero too. He thought he had to match up to his dad, and when he couldn’t, he didn’t allow himself the confidence to succeed on his own terms. He ran into danger because he thought it was expected of him, only to cause trouble for everyone. And yet, Scorpius stood by him all the way, keeping him safe. Albus envied him. Albus admired him. Albus loved him.

Albus feared that love. He did, after all, fall hard for Delphi. He was taken in by her pretty looks and kind words without a second thought. He allowed himself to be manipulated by her, even when he knew the harm it would cause. Perhaps that meant Albus was no fit person to love. 

***

A crashing of garden tools woke Albus violently. He staggered to his feet and found Scorpius keeping watch. Darkness filled Godric’s Hollow, lit only by street lamps and Jack-o-Lanterns. The night of Hallows’ Eve was upon them. If Harry didn’t arrive soon, then all would certainly be lost.

Albus unlocked the shed door and stepped out. The crisp air filled his lungs and replaced the stuffy, dirty air of the shed. Children continued to scramble out in the streets begging adults for candy. Albus’s stomach rumbled. He remembered the elaborate Halloween feasts at Hogwarts with a desperate longing.

Children began to dissipate, returning to their homes. Soon the streets were empty and the moon was high in the sky. And then suddenly, in the centre of the square, not only Harry, but Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Draco all faded into existence in front of his eyes.

“MUM!” shouted Albus. He ran towards Ginny with such speed that he wasn’t entirely sure who was controlling his legs. He threw himself into her arms and she hugged him tightly and wept with joy.

“Albus Severus Potter,” greeted Harry as he brushed his fingers through Albus’s hair. “Are we pleased to see you.”

“You got our note... ?” asked Albus, breaking apart.

“We got your note,” beamed Ginny.

Scorpius ran to his father, but stopped short in his tracks. He looked at Draco with trepidation.

“We can hug too if you like...” said Draco.

Scorpius leapt at his dad and embraced him fiercely. Draco looked surprised at first, but embraced his son warmly (albeit awkwardly).

“Now, where’s this Delphi?” asked Ron.

“You know about Delphi?” asked Scorpius as he broke away from his dad.

Albus looked to his dad with urgency. “She’s here—we think she’s going to stop Voldemort from killing you so his curse won’t destroy him by accident, he won’t give you a piece of his soul, and...”

“Yes, we thought that might be it too,” said Hermione, looking around. “Do you know where specifically she is now?”

“She’s disappeared,” replied Scorpius, who was still in shock that they were really here. “She was injured in the return trip, but we think this is where she’s come to, given the date. How did you—how did you, without the Time-Turner—”

“That’s a long and complicated story, Scorpius,” interrupted Harry. “And we don’t have time for it.”

“Harry’s right. Time is of the essence,” said Hermione, taking command. “We need to get people into position. Now, Godric’s Hollow is not a large place but she could be coming from any direction. So we need somewhere that gives us good views of the town—that allows for multiple and clear observation points—and that will, most importantly, keep us hidden, because we cannot risk being seen.” A bell tolled and Hermione’s eyes fell on the church. “I’d say St. Jerome's Church ticks all those boxes, wouldn’t you?”


	69. Love Binds Us

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 9: Love Binds Us  


An undisturbed quiet permeated throughout Godric’s Hollow. Hermione took the highest position in the bell tower and cast muffling charms and Muggle repelling charms on the church. Ron and Draco swept the rafters where they had an unobstructed view of the village.

Harry and Ginny watched from the ground floor where they gazed down the streets. More importantly, they kept watch over Albus and Scorpius, who slept on the pews. Ginny bent over a pew to watch Albus as his chest rose and fell slowly. She had spent weeks feeling scared and mad and sad, and even though the fight was not yet over, she allowed herself the comfort of knowing her son was safe during this respite. She brushed Albus’s hair gently as Harry stepped down from the windowsill, frustrated.

“No. Nothing,” he sighed. “Why isn’t she here?”

“We’re together,” said Ginny softly, “your mum and dad are still alive—we can turn time, Harry, we can’t speed it up. She’ll come when she’s ready, and we’ll be ready for her.” Albus stirred in his sleep and Ginny withdrew her hand as to not wake him. “Or some of us will be.”

“Poor kid thought he had to save the world,” said Harry, taking a seat at Albus’s feet.

“Poor kid has saved the world,” she said with a delicate smile. “That blanket was masterful. I mean, he almost destroyed the world, but probably best not to focus on that bit.”

“You think he’s okay?” asked Harry. Ginny could discern a guilt in the back of his throat.

Ginny walked behind Harry and placed her hands on his shoulders. “He’s getting there,” she said, “it just might take him a bit of time—and you a bit of time too.” She smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back. “You know, after I’d opened the Chamber of Secrets—after Voldemort had bewitched me with that terrible diary and I’d almost destroyed everything—”

“I remember,” assured Harry.

“After I came out of hospital—everyone ignored me, shut me out—other than, that is, the boy who had everything—who came across the Gryffindor common room and challenged me to a game of Exploding Snap. People think they know all there is to know about you, but the best bits of you are—and always have been—heroic in really quiet ways. My point is—after this is over, just remember if you could that sometimes people—but particularly children—just want someone to play Exploding Snap with.”

Harry looked at Albus as he processed Ginny’s story. “You think that’s what we’re missing—Exploding Snap?” he said, tongue-in-cheek.

“No,” laughed Ginny. “But the love I felt from you that day—I’m not sure Albus feels that.”

“I’d do anything for him,” said Harry firmly, almost offended.

“Harry, you’d do anything for anybody,” said Ginny calmly as she caressed Harry’s face. “You were pretty happy to sacrifice yourself for the world. He needs to feel specific love. It’ll make him stronger, and you stronger too.” 

Harry melted at her touch. “You know, it wasn’t until we thought Albus had gone that I truly understood what my mother was able to do for me. A countercharm so powerful that it was able to repel the spell of death.”

“And the only spell Voldemort couldn't understand—” she touched his chest, “love.”

Harry stood and gave Ginny a kiss. “I do love him specifically, Ginny,” he said, “I would give anything to protect him.”

“I know, but he needs to feel it.”

Harry examined her for a moment, somehow bashful even after all these years. “I’m lucky to have you, aren’t I?”

“Extremely,” she said, slightly flushed. “And I’d be delighted to discuss just how lucky at another time. But for now—let’s focus on stopping Delphi.”

Harry nodded in agreement and stepped back up to the window. Ginny looked to Harry and then to Albus. She paused for a moment as a word came to her: father. 

“We’re running out of time,” grunted Harry.

“Unless—” said Ginny, as she pieced together her ideas. “Harry, has anyone thought—why has she picked now? Today?”

“Because this is the day that changed everything...” said Harry, as though the answer was obvious.

“But if she wanted to change everything, she could have gone back any time,” Ginny explained. “Back before the Fidelius Charm was placed. Back before Voldemort decided to kill you. Even back before you were born. She doesn’t need to kill you to protect Voldemort.”

Harry screwed up his face as he slowly followed along with Ginny’s thinking. “So what you’re saying is... she didn’t come here for me... she came here for _him_. She doesn’t just consider herself his servant, she considers herself his child. She just wants to be reunited with her ‘father.’”

“Maybe a bit more than merely reunited,” she suggested. “What Rowle said... She wanted to use her own flesh in Voldemort’s rebirth. She doesn’t just want him to return to power... she wants to be bound to him like a parent to a child. She wants to use magic to make them family.”

“So she comes back tonight,” said Harry with a subtle excitement. “The night Voldemort destroys himself and a piece of his soul detaches itself from the whole.”

Ginny’s heart pounded enthusiastically as she worked out Delphi’s plan. “What if she doesn’t want to stop Voldemort from killing you. What if she _wants_ him to be destroyed... and then use herself as the vessel for his soul instead of you. She’s going to protect him... by protecting his soul.”

Harry kissed her and said, “Looks like Voldemort underestimated how attached a Harpy would become when he decided to nest one.”


	70. The Early Bird

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 10: The Early Bird

Ginny woke Albus and Scorpius as Harry ran upstairs to gather Hermione, Ron, and Draco. They grouped together on the ground floor as Harry and Ginny explained their revelation and the new plan.

Ron sat slumped on a pew, dumbfounded. “So let me get this right—we’re fighting to protect Voldemort?”

Albus shook his head, trying to make sense of the new plan. “Voldemort killing my grandparents. Voldemort trying to kill my dad?”

“Of course, Ginny,” said Hermione as she worked it out. “If she takes a piece of Voldemort’s soul into herself, she’ll be able to protect it with her life. And while she’s alive, so Voldemort will be.”

“So—we just wait?” asked Draco impatiently. “Until Voldemort turns up? How do we know she hasn’t already found him?”

“I don’t think she has,” said Albus. “The history books—correct me if I’m wrong, Scorpius—show nothing about when and how he got to Godric’s Hollow, or where he was before, right?”

Scorpius and Hermione answered in unison, “You’re not wrong.”

“Blimey! There are two of them!” Ron remarked.

“She came here early because she didn’t know when he’d arrive,” explained Albus. “She’ll be here waiting too. We’ll need to draw her out.”

“But how?” asked Scorpius. “If she wasn’t worried about finishing us off, she’s not going to come after us if we show up.”

“She might not show up for you, but she might for us,” suggested Ron. “She probably didn’t plan on us being here.”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t think she’d come running toward five fully-trained wizards, especially if she’s injured.”

“Do you know what I’m really good at?” said Albus as an idea came to him.

“There’s plenty you’re good at, Albus,” Harry insisted a little too forcefully.

“Polyjucing,” continued Albus, ignoring his dad’s desperate attempt at praise. “And I think Bathilda Bagshot may have all the ingredients for Polyjuice in her basement. We can Polyjuice into Voldemort and bring her to us.”

“To use Polyjuice you need a bit of someone,” said Ron as he stood from his seat. “We don’t have a bit of Voldemort.”

“And the potion would take too long to brew anyway,” explained Hermione. “But I like the concept, a pretend mouse for her cat."

“More like a worm for her bird,” said Scorpius.

Draco looked doubtful. “Voldemort doesn’t have any reason to trust her. She might not even come out for Voldemort if she’s just waiting for him to be destroyed.”

“But she’ll come for me,” said Harry grimly. All eyes turned to him. He grabbed a nearby vase and wrapped it in cloth pulled from the altar. “If she sees James and Harry trying to escape Godric’s Hollow, she’ll be forced to act,” he explained. “She needs me to be at home when Voldemort arrives, otherwise her plan won’t work. And, well, I look enough like my father.”

“Harry, no...” Ginny pleaded. “I won’t let you fight her by yourself.”

“She’ll relish the chance to rip you to shreds,” insisted Ron.

“Not much of a delicate touch, are you, Weasley?” said Draco as he side-eyed Ron. “But he’s not wrong,” he said to Harry. “It’s not like your father was exactly important to Voldemort.”

“I’ve made my decision,” said Harry, resolute. “Unless anyone can offer me a reason this plan isn’t our best shot.”

Everyone retreated into deep thought as they tried to think of a better plan. A loud silence filled the room for too long.

Albus looked to his father. “That vase makes for an ugly baby, Dad,” he said feebly.

The tension in the room lightened. At once, they all quietly agreed on the plan, and preparations commenced. Hermione studied the room as Ginny grabbed the vase from Harry.

“Boys, move these pews so there’s more space in here,” instructed Ginny. Scorpius, Albus, Draco, and Ron all nodded and began making space. “I’ll transfigure the vase. Make it more baby-like.” She pulled out her wand and waved it delicately around the vase. Slowly, the shape of a porcelain doll began to form out of the vase.

Ron grabbed Harry’s shoulders, and said to him sternly, “All you need to do is lure her in here. Keep yourself safe until then. Then we zap her together.”

“‘Zap her’?” repeated Draco condescendingly.

“We’ll hide behind these doors,” said Hermione, pointing at two doors on opposite ends of the church. She then motioned to the centre of the room, where the rose-tinted moonlight shone through the stained-glass window. “If you can get her to this point, Harry, then we come out and make sure she has no chance to escape.”

Ron looked defiantly to Draco and said with confidence, “And then we’ll _zap_ her.”

Ginny swaddled the porcelain doll in the altar cloth and handed it back to Harry, along with a kiss for good luck.

With the room prepared, Draco asked, “Potter, last chance, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Harry without hesitation.

“Then you should move quickly. Good luck, Harry,” said Hermione.

Albus threw himself at his father, hugging him tightly. Harry hugged him back and kissed him on the top of the head. Harry looked to Ginny, but she turned her back, unable to watch him leave. With no time left for farewells, Harry disappeared into the night.


	71. The Augurey Unriddled

##  Part 2 - Act 4

###  Scene 11: The Augurey Unriddled

Albus’s eyes followed Harry stealthily moving through Godric’s Hollow. It was not an easy task, as Harry kept mostly to the shadows while he made his way toward the Potter’s home before he could reveal himself. It wasn’t long before Albus lost sight of his dad completely.

Albus turned and saw his mum sitting by herself, separate from the group (who were all watching from the windows). Ginny’s hands fidgeted nervously with her wand. Albus walked over to her.

“It’s going to be okay, you know that, Mum?” assured Albus. He quite believed it, too.

“I know it is,” she responded. “Or I hope I do. This is why I never visit your father at work. I’ve seen him outrun death so many times, I’m scared to see death catch up to him.”

Albus sat beside her. “This is all my fault,” he admitted.

“How funny,” she dismissed. “Your dad seems to think it’s all his. Strange pair that you are.”

Albus felt his stomach churn. The feelings he kept bottled up flared up in the presence of his mother. “I liked her, Mum, you know that?” he said, his voice shaking. “I really liked her. Delphi. And I’d like to think it was all Veela magic, but I know that a part of it... was me. It scares me to know I could like someone like her.”

Ginny took him into her arms. “She deceived you, just as Voldemort deceived good people when he was Tom Riddle,” replied Ginny. “If Dumbledore has taught us anything, it’s that you should never fault yourself for having a heart so open to love. Don’t be afraid to love, Albus. Love and friendship are both very powerful...” she paused, and then said softly, “and not necessarily mutually exclusive.”

Albus looked at Scorpius. Somehow Ginny always knew what to say to make him feel better. His fears suddenly seemed inconsequential. It felt foolish to think his feelings for Delphi should prevent him from falling for anyone else. It seemed ridiculous that falling in love somehow undermined the strength of their friendship. And most importantly, Scorpius loved him too, and by Dumbledore, if there was anyone deserving of getting every damn thing his heart desired, it was Scorpius Malfoy.

Albus looked to his mum as his heart throbbed vigorously, and Ginny gave him a single knowing nod.

“That’s her. That’s her!” called Scorpius. “She’s seen him.”

“Positions. Everybody,” instructed Hermione. “And remember, don’t come out until he’s got her in the light—we’ve got one shot at this, we don’t want to mess it up.”

Quickly, the group scattered and divided. As Draco, Ron, and Scorpius ran to the opposite side of the room, Albus heard Draco remark to Ron, “Hermione Granger, I’m being bossed around by Hermione Granger. And I’m mildly enjoying it.”

“Dad...” moaned Scorpius.

Albus entered the opposite door with Hermione and Ginny, finding themselves in a cramped sacristy. Albus saw a light at the base of the wall, and he dropped to his knees to look through a grate into the nave.

Harry burst through the doors of the church at a sprint. As soon as he’d entered, an explosion shook the church. Shelves toppled. Beams fell. Walls crumbled. Albus became trapped under a wardrobe with his wand rolling inches away from his hand. Debris blocked the door, trapping them in place. Hermione and Ginny struggled underneath the rubble.

Delphi descended into the church through a large opening she’d created. She emanated with ferocity and power. Her wings blew dust around the room. Her eyes were now beady and deathly crimson. Her feet and good hand had grown fierce fiery talons. A sharp, whip-like tail swung behind her. Embers rose from her wild hair. When she spoke, her words carried a lethal bite.

“You dare try to fool me?!” she hissed. Her hand sparked to flames as she began to conjure a fireball.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ !” shouted Harry, pointing his wand at a pew. It rose into the air as Delphi lobbed her attack. The fireball collided with the pew, knocking it across the room only adding to the debris blocking Scorpius’s door.

“Harry...” called Hermione. “Harry...”

“I’m stuck,” shouted Ginny. “I can’t reach my wand.”

“It’s too tight back here,” shouted Ron. “We can’t blast the door open without hurting someone.”

“I can see into your pathetically simple mind, Harry Potter,” taunted Delphi. “I hear your thoughts. I know your fears. I haunt your dreams. You are nothing without your friends, Potter.”

“Fine,” said Harry, taking aim. “I’ll  deal with you alone.”

“I don’t think so,” Delphi cackled venomously. She swooped down and threw Harry across the room. He tumbled as he fell and his wand flew from his hand, leaving him disarmed and helpless.

Albus felt pressure lifting from his back. Ginny pulled back the wardrobe enough for Albus to wriggle free and grab his wand.

“You were mistaken to think you were a match for the Augurey,” taunted Delphi. She lunged another fireball at Harry, but he rolled away and crawled under a pew as her attack shattered the window behind him. Delphi roared with laughter. “Are you crawling away from me? Harry Potter. Hero of the wizarding world. Crawling away like a rat.”

Quietly, Albus opened the grate with his wand. He motioned to Ginny his plan, but she shook her head furiously and mouthed every variation of the word “no” imaginable.

The pew exploded as Harry rolled out from underneath. Sharp spikes grew from Delphi’s claw, which she fired at Harry like knives. Harry retreated across the room as he dodged her spikes, each piercing the stone walls.

“Killing you is fun, Potter,” teased Delphi. “Once my father’s soul is safely preserved in my body, I think I might kill you again.”

Albus dropped to the floor and started to crawl through the grate. Ginny tried to grab him, but Albus was too fast. He emerged on the other side as Delphi prepared another fireball. Albus aimed his wand at her burning claw.

“ _ Incendio _ !” he shouted. A bolt of fire shot from his wand. The two attacks met in a beautiful explosion at the centre of the room, knocking Delphi back in the air. Harry made a leap to his wand as Delphi threw every attack she could haphazardly toward him. At last, he wielded his wand once more and shielded himself from the barrage.

“Albus!” shouted Harry.

“You think you’re stronger than me?” seethed Delphi as she regained her balance. Her claw alit again, but this time the fire burned a toxic green. Albus felt himself being thrown out of the way as Harry grabbed him just as Delphi cast her lethal fire.

“No. I’m not,” said Harry. Delphi shot another green firebolt but Harry countered. “But  _ we _ are.”

Albus pointed his wand at his mother’s door. “ _ Expulso _ !” he shouted, and the debris cleared. “ _ Expulso _ !” he shouted again, this time at the opposite door. Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Scorpius pushed open their doors and ran into the room, wands drawn.

“I’ve never fought alone, you see,” explained Harry, glowing with triumph. “And I never will.”

Spells fired from every wand, colliding and bursting in vibrant sparks. Delphi screamed in exasperation as she fired back, but was unable to match the sheer onslaught of magic. “No...” she cried. “No...”

“ _ Brachiabindo _ !” shouted Hermione finally. Ropes shot from her wand, ensnaring Delphi and dropping her helplessly to the ground.

Harry approached her, his wand outstretched and his eyes locked. Everyone else kept back as Harry circled her dangerously, as though he didn’t know what to make of her.

“Albus, are you okay?” asked Harry, though he continued to watch Delphi carefully.

“Yes, Dad, I’m okay,” Albus assured him.

“Ginny, has he been injured?” he asked. “I need to know he’s safe...”

“He insisted,” Ginny explained. “He was the only one small enough to crawl through the grate. I tried to stop him.”

“Just tell me he’s okay.”

“I’m fine, Dad. I promise,” insisted Albus.

Harry confronted Delphi with a rage that frightened Albus. “A lot of people have tried to hurt me—but my son!” roared Harry. “You dare hurt my son!”

Delphi struggled with her binds, but was unable to escape. Her voice carried an abject desperation as she begged, “I must... protect my father... please...”

Harry looked startled at her anguish. With only a hint of pity, he told her, “Voldemort isn’t your father, Delphi. He never was. You can’t change that. Whatever feelings you have toward him, I assure you he is incapable of sharing. You’re just a forgotten pawn in a war that was already lost.”

“Just let me—see him,” she pleaded.

“I can’t and I won’t,” said Harry bluntly.

Tears streamed from her eyes. Broken and utterly defeated, she implored, “Then kill me.”

Her words echoed around the room and brought with it an icy chill. Everyone looked to Harry, eager to hear his response. Harry withdrew deep into thought, and it took him a moment to reply.

“I can’t do that either,” he said finally.

“What?” said Albus, surprised. “Dad? She’s dangerous.”

“No, Albus...” said Harry calmly.

Albus couldn’t comprehend this. After all that she’d done... after trying to destroy everything... after killing Craig, surely death would be a suiting punishment, particularly as she begs for it herself. Albus argued, “But she’s a murderer—I’ve seen her murder—”

“Yes,” said Harry with a look to Ginny and then back to his son. “Albus, she’s a murderer, and we’re not.”

“We have to be better than them,” agreed Hermione.

“Yeah,” sighed Ron, “it’s annoying but it’s what we learnt.”

Delphi trembled and twitched. She looked as though she were in physical pain. “Take my mind,” she begged, her voice hoarse. “Take my memory. Make me forget him.”

Hermione approached Harry. “Maybe we should,” she suggested carefully.

“Hermione, no,” refused Harry. “After all she’s done? She needs to live with that.”

“But I can’t help but feel like... it’s not entirely her fault,” said Hermione as she pulled Harry aside. “I mean, the killing and treachery sure, but... it’s in a Harpy’s nature to protect their nest. She didn’t choose for Voldemort to find her.”

“What do you suggest?” he asked.

“We sever the connection between her and Voldemort,” explained Hermione.

Harry looked at Delphi, unsure. She fidgeted restlessly as though she were suffering unseen burns. He asked Hermione, “You think you can?”

“I believe I can,” she answered. A quaver in her voice suggested that she was reluctant, though Albus knew her to be entirely capable. Harry motioned for Hermione to approach Delphi as he stepped back. Hermione stood imposingly over Delphi. “To be clear,” she said with all her authority and conviction, “your actions are not forgiven. But for my own peace of mind, I can’t allow you to suffer a subservience to a master that you didn’t ask for and can’t control.”

“Thank you...” said Delphi in her fragile voice.

“But,” continued Hermione, “you will still have full memory of your crimes, for which you will be punished. You will be returned to our time.”

“And you’ll go to Azkaban,” added Ron.

“Where you’ll rot,” spat Draco.

Delphi nodded as tears flew from her eyes. Hermione inhaled and raised her wand.

“ _ Obliviate _ .”

Strands of blue light seeped through Delphi’s hair and rose slowly upwards. Delphi screamed. The strands of light spun and stretched and clung tightly to Delphi. Hermione’s wand hand trembled as she struggled to sever the memories. In a flicker and a flash, the light began to coalesce into the ethereal form of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort’s manifestation laughed ominously as it loomed behind Delphi. Hermione powered through, keeping her nerve, and soon the light burst from Delphi all at once and dissipated slowly into the air.

Delphi groaned and toppled over. The light faded, leaving them in the light of the high moon and fire burning in the wreckage of the church. A low hiss crept through Godric’s Hollow. This venomous hiss echoed around the ruins of the church, filling everyone with dread. The hiss grew louder, and rang out in its murderous timbre the words:  _ Haaarry Pottttter...  _

“What’s that?” asked Scorpius.

Harry fell to his knees and whimpered, “No. No. Not yet.”

“Voldemort,” cowered Ron.

“Now?” said Hermione. “Here?”

Ginny rushed to Harry and threw her arms around him. “Harry? Harry, we’re here with you.” She looked at the other adults with urgency, “We need to protect the church. And don’t let Delphi see him!”

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” cast Draco, and Delphi rose into the rafters.

“ _ Repello Inimicum _ ,” cast Hermione, and the air around the church rippled as it became obscured to onlookers.

“He’s coming,” warned Harry. “He’s coming right now.”

The moonlight turned sickly green as a Dark Mark appeared in the sky. Through the collapsed wall, they watched as Voldemort appeared in the streets. A shadow of a once handsome man was obscured by his grey, leathery features. His countenance had all the makings of a man whose soul was fractured and brutalised. His long, black robes swished in the cold breeze he carried with him. One could be forgiven for mistaking him for Death itself. Though, on that night in Godric’s Hollow, death was most certainly in his wake.


	72. The Power That He Knew Not

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 12: The Power That He Knew Not

Voldemort walked onward through the village with the Potter’s home in his sights. Harry watched him draw nearer and nearer as his mind reeled in distress. A dark determination compelled him to his feet and he ran to the entrance of the church, but stopped himself before he could escape the protective barrier. He wanted more than anything to run after Voldemort and stop him, but Harry used all his willpower to restrain himself.

Harry gritted his teeth and said, “Voldemort is going to kill my mum and dad—and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.”

“That’s not true,” said Draco. 

“Dad, now is not the time...” reprimanded Scorpius.

Albus joined his father. “There is something you could do—to stop him. But you won’t,” he said wisely.

“That’s heroic,” remarked Draco. “I’d give my soul to turn time and save Astoria.”

Harry felt Ginny’s hand embrace his own. “You don’t have to watch, Harry,” she said. “We can go home.”

“I’m letting it happen...” said Harry remorsefully. “Of course I have to watch.”

“Then we’ll all witness it,” said Hermione.

“We’ll all watch,” agreed Ron.

As one, the group exited the church and walked into the street a safe distance from the Potters’ home. Voldemort had already penetrated the Fidelius Charm’s protective barrier. Harry looked to Albus. His son’s eyes were wet with tears but there was a strength in him that Harry didn’t expect. Albus hugged him and Harry hugged back as Voldemort opened the door.

James Potter’s voice echoed down the streets. “Lily, take Harry and go! It’s him! Go! Run! I’ll hold him off...” A flash of red light filled the windows as James fired a spell. Voldemort laughed derisively as James tried to keep his attacker at bay. “You keep away, you understand—you keep away.”

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

The green light from Voldemort’s spell filled Godric’s Hollow. Albus buried his face into his dad’s chest. Harry clung to his son and wife tightly.

“He did everything he could,” said Albus mournfully.

Harry caught a shadow moving on the first floor, followed by Lily running into the bedroom and putting Harry in his crib.

“That’s my mum, at the window,” said Harry, openly weeping. “I can see my mother, she looks beautiful.”

There was a loud _BOOM_ as the door was blasted off its hinges. Voldemort entered the room and faced Lily.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry...” begged Lily hysterically.

“Stand aside, you silly girl...” warned Voldemort impatiently. “Stand aside, now...”

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead...”

Voldemort raised his wand. “This is my last warning—”

Lily screamed, begging ever louder, “Not Harry! Please... Have mercy... have mercy... Not my son! Please—I’ll do anything.”

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Harry collapsed as a green flash of light filled the streets once again. He sobbed uncontrollably as his parents’ fates were sealed. Everyone, even Draco, went to comfort him. Harry held Albus in his embrace, too terrified to let go.

An almighty explosion erupted from the Potter’s home. At once, the Fidelius Charm was lifted, and they all watched as Voldemort’s curse backfired, destroying Voldemort’s body and sending his soul shattered outwards. Like a puff of smoke, his soul rose into the sky along with the actual smoke of the burning house. But a fragment of his soul lingered in the wreckage, flying aimlessly in circles. Finally, the forgotten fragment found a living soul in the ruins and fused with the only known survivor of the killing curse: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.


	73. The Boy Who Lived

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 13: The Boy Who Lived

A black cloud loomed above Godric’s Hollow as a pillar of smoke rose from the destroyed Potter home. The emerald aurora depicting a snake entwining a skull mixed with the acrid smoke for a ghastly scene for Rubeus Hagrid to arrive to. The Muggles that began to crowd the streets only diverted their attention away from the destruction to witness the hairy half-giant.

Marble-sized tears rolled down Hagrid’s cheeks as he approached the house. The ground floor was damaged but still standing. The first floor, however, had been blown apart entirely with only a few walls and beams still standing. Burning planks and melted shrapnel littered the garden. Hagrid pushed open the garden gate, but his powerful, trembling hand accidentally detached it from its hinges. He walked toward the house, consumed with grief. The front door was ajar; he stepped inside.

“James?” whimpered Hagrid in his booming voice as he saw the corpse of James Potter laying haphazardly, as though discarded, at the foot of the staircase. Hagrid pushed aside a collapsed beam to make his way to the body. Hagrid spotted James’s glasses a few feet away and picked them up as carefully as he could with his meaty fingers. He closed James’s cold, distant eyes with his free hand, then placed his glasses back on him.

Hagrid climbed the staircase. The boards creaked beneath his weight, and his right foot snapped one of the steps. Hagrid managed to catch himself from falling by holding on to a bit of exposed wall. As he reached the first floor, a flickering light came from Harry’s bedroom. He walked slowly towards the door, which hung off its hinges. Hagrid lifted it out of the way, as he spotted Lily Potter’s collapsed form in front of the crib.

“Lily?” bawled Hagrid, entirely overwhelmed. “Oh. Oh. That’s not—that’s not—I weren’t—They told me, but—I were hoping fer better...”

He bowed his head and dug out some crumpled flowers from deep within one of his coat pockets. He scooped them out onto the floor in front of Lily, and then wiped the torrent of tears from his eyes with his massive sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” said Hagrid with a throaty cough and a sniffle as he tried to compose himself, “they told me, he told me, Dumbledore told me, I can’t wait with yeh. Them Muggles are coming, yeh see, with their flashing blues and they won’t ‘preciate a big lummox like me, would they?” A thunderous sob escaped him. “Hard though it is to leave yeh. I want yeh to know—yeh won’t be forgotten—not by me—not by anyfolk.”

Hagrid then heard a soft snuffling coming from the crib. The crib stood undamaged beneath a gaping hole in the roof. The soft morning sunlight shrouded it in an ethereal glow. Hagrid bent over the railings and found Harry Potter asleep in chaos.

“Well. Hello. Yeh must be Harry,” said Hagrid as he reached into the crib and brought Harry into his mammoth arms. An overwhelming happiness filled Hagrid at seeing the boy alive and unharmed (but for a jagged scar on his forehead). “Hello, Harry Potter. I’m Rubeus Hagrid. And I’m going to be yer friend whether yeh like it or not.” Harry cooed and Hagrid chuckled softly. Tears began to fill his eyes again, but not tears of sorrow, nor tears of joy, but tears of hope. “‘Cos yeh’ve had it tough, not that yeh know it yet,” he continued. “An’ yer gonna need friends. Now yeh best come with me, don’t yeh think?”

Blue lights flashed in the streets and sirens rang out. Soon after, he heard a rumbling of a motorbike flying overhead. Hagrid swaddled the baby and carried him out of the house. Perhaps, one day, Harry would return to this place. But for now, under Dumbledore’s orders, he would be taken to Surrey to live with his only living relatives at number four, Privet Drive.


	74. Several Sunlit Days

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 14: Several Sunlit Days

As Albus and Scorpius returned to Hogwarts, the rumours about them had already made the rounds. Positively everyone stared as they walked past, from the students to the teachers to the portraits to the house-elves poking their noses around corners. Depending on who you asked, they were either reckless idiots who almost destroyed the world, or brave idiots who saved it.

Professor McGonagall believed both. It was for that reason that she made the decision not to expel them, but they instead had to sacrifice their free periods taking extra lessons to make up their grades. In addition, she didn’t go so far as to force Albus to change houses, but she did confine Albus and Scorpius to the fifth and sixth-years’ boys’ dormitories respectively. Her reasoning was that this would ensure that a prefect could keep eyes on them at night, but what it resulted in was them falling asleep in the common room every now and then when they stayed up too late hanging out.

Albus saw his grades and spellwork starting to improve. Professor Longbottom took it upon himself to check in with the other teachers regularly, and helped Albus whenever he struggled in one of his classes. Albus gratefully accepted Professor Longbottom’s mentoring, and in return tended to stay after Herbology class to help him restock the greenhouses.

With Scorpius’s participation in the defeat of Delphi becoming well known, he found that rumours about him began to fade into obscurity. By all means, people still teased him for being bookish and weird and a little too loud at times, but he somewhat appreciated that people insulted him for the things he actually was, for a change, instead of the things he was not.

“Know what I could really go for, after having saved the world and all?” asked Scorpius one day in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom after the class had cleared out.

“After almost destroying the world first—” Albus corrected him, “go on.”

“Honeydukes,” declared Scorpius excitedly.

“Honeydukes!” laughed Albus as he tucked his books into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Right...”

“I mean it!” insisted Scorpius. “Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans. Just fill up on whatever we want. I think we’ve earned it.”

Albus smiled wide and sat on the edge of his desk as he watched Scorpius carry on. He said, “Only we’re banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of forever for—once again—almost destroying the world.”

“Right,” said Scorpius, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “ _but_ I know a shortcut.”

“A shortcut?”

“Under the Whomping Willow,” revealed Scorpius with a smug smile. “Takes us to the Shrieking Shack, right at the end of Hogsmeade.”

“Alright, it’s a date!” agreed Albus.

“Awesome!” cheered Scorpius. He paused. “Wait, a date?”

Albus dropped his books, jumped up and backed away awkwardly. The words came to his mouth without a second thought. He mumbled, flustered, “I... er... didn’t mean... like... you know... a _date_ date.”

Scorpius turned pink and stepped back, crestfallen. “Oh...” he said with an embarrassed laugh.

Albus couldn’t stop himself. He took a daring step forward, saying, “That is... I mean... unless...”

“Unless... ?” repeated Scorpius, his eyes wide and taking a step nearer.

Albus continued, struggling to say the words, “Unless you—”

Their lips met. Blood rushed through Albus’s body as a cathartic feeling engulfed him. It was a feeling that wasn’t quite nervousness, and wasn’t quite excitement, but was an undefinable confidence. It felt like two magnets snapping together after being held in suspension or the euphoric rush of adrenaline after besting a devious riddle. It felt right, it felt absolute, it felt like their obvious next adventure.

The heat from Scorpius’s body warmed Albus like sunlight. Albus’s heart drummed triumphantly as he caressed Scorpius’s cheek. Albus felt at home as Scorpius’s arms embraced him.

There came a cough at the back of the room, but they were too consumed by their snogging to notice. Finally, Rose called, “Hello boys.”

Albus and Scorpius broke apart frantically, each all kinds of embarrassed. Rose stood on the stairs outside the professor’s office wearing a most amused smile.

“Hi?” said Albus and Scorpius together with a pointless tone of innocence.

“I get to come too, right?” she asked as she descended the staircase with a playful spring in her step.

Albus looked to Scorpius, confused, but Scorpius shrugged. “What?” asked Albus.

“To Honeydukes,” she answered. “I get to come too?” She looked to each of them with her head tilted and her eyes wide as though asking was just a formality.

“Um. Sure?” agreed Scorpius nervously.

“Brilliant,” she said simply. “Find me when you’re ready.” She made for the exit, but before closing the door, she turned to them and instructed, “As you were.”

Albus and Scorpius turned to one another. Scorpius’s face grew beyond excitement. Unable to contain himself, Scorpius exploded, “I’m best friends with Rose Granger-Weasley!”

Albus doubled over, laughing as Scorpius squealed with triumph. When he’d finally managed to contain his enthusiasm (a difficult task for Scorpius), they gathered their things and began descending the castle.

“So, do you want to go tonight?” asked Scorpius. “Or do you want to head to the Quidditch? Slytherin are playing Hufflepuff—it’s a big one—”

“I thought we hated Quidditch?” asked Albus.

“People can change,” said Scorpius with a sly smile. “Besides, I’ve been practising. I think I can make the team eventually.”

“I can’t,” lamented Albus. “My dad’s arranged to come up—”

“He’s taking time away from the Ministry?”

Albus tried his best to hide that he was privately looking forward to spending time with his dad. “He wants to go on a walk—something to show me—share with me—something.”

“A walk,” said Scorpius, unconvinced by its appeal.

“I know,” said Albus with a forced groan, “I think it’s a bonding thing or something similarly vomit-inducing. Still, you know, I think I’ll go.”

Scorpius smiled and pulled Albus in for a hug. “You should. I’ll see you at dinner.” Albus noticed Scorpius holding the embrace for a little longer than expected. “Albus?” Scorpius asked suddenly.

“Hmm?”

Scorpius paused. He hummed as he tried to work out the words. Finally, he asked, “I’m a better kisser than Hermione, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” laughed Albus as he pushed Scorpius away. Scorpius snickered then leaned in for another kiss, which Albus happily reciprocated.


	75. The Grave on the Hill

## Part 2 - Act 4

### Scene 15: The Grave on the Hill

Harry led Albus through a field in Ottery St. Catchpole. Warm sunlight illuminated their path as the sun slowly neared the western horizon.

“So are you ready?” asked Harry, making conversation.

“For what?” asked Albus.

“Well, there’s fourth year exams—and then fifth year—big year—in my fifth year I did—” He paused, and then finished his thought quickly. “I did a lot of stuff. Some of it good. Some of it bad. A lot of it quite confusing.”

“Good to know,” said Albus. Harry smiled.

They met a hill as they walked and began to ascend it.

“I got to watch them—you know—” said Albus suddenly, “for a bit—your mum and dad. They were—you had fun together. Your dad used to love to do this smoke ring thing with you where you... well, you couldn’t stop giggling.”

Harry closed his eyes, trying to imagine it. “Yes?” he said fondly.

“I think you’d have liked them,” said Albus. “And I think me, Lily, and James would have liked them too.”

Harry nodded and ruffled Albus’s hair. Soon, they approached a graveyard at the top of the hill. A lone willow tree grew from the summit; its branches draped over the graveyard as though in a perpetual state of mourning.

“You know,” said Harry grimly as he paused at the entrance, “I thought I’d lost him—Voldemort—I thought I’d lost him—and then he started to appear in my dreams, I started getting visions again, it was so familiar, even after all this time, I began hallucinating that my scar was hurting as though he was still in my head. I’d started to feel like I’d not changed at all—that he’d never let me go—”

“And had he?” asked Albus.

Harry looked out into the distance. “The part of me that was Voldemort died a long time ago, but it wasn’t enough to be physically rid of him—I had to be mentally rid of him. And that—is a lot to learn for a forty-year-old man.”

Harry put his arm around Albus’s shoulder and walked into the graveyard.

“The way I acted,” continued Harry, “the things I did thinking I was protecting you—it was unforgivable, and I can’t ask you to forget it but I can hope we move past it. I’m going to try to be a better dad for you, Albus. I am going to try and—be honest with you and...”

“Dad, you don’t need to—” started Albus.

“You told me you don’t think I’m scared of anything, and that—I mean, I’m scared of everything. I mean, I’m afraid of the dark, did you know that?”

“Harry Potter is afraid of the dark?” mused Albus.

“I don’t like small spaces and—I’ve never told anyone this, but I don’t much like—” he hesitated, “ _pigeons_.”

“You don’t like pigeons?” laughed Albus.

Harry screwed up his face, disgusted by even the thought. “Nasty, pecky, dirty things. They give me the creeps.”

“But pigeons are harmless!” Albus teased.

“I know,” said Harry, smiling. He gathered his breath and then looked more serious. “But the thing that scares me most of all, Albus Severus Potter, is being a dad to you. Because I’m operating without wires here. Most people at least have a dad to base themselves on—and either try to be or try not to be. I’ve nothing—or very little. So I’m learning, okay? And I’m going to try with everything I’ve got—to be a good dad for you.”

Albus hugged his father. “And I’ll try to be a better son,” he said. “I know I’m not James, Dad, I’ll never be like you two—”

“James is nothing like me,” remarked Harry.

“Isn’t he?” said Albus, surprised.

“Everything comes so easy for James,” said Harry with a hint of envy. “My childhood was a constant struggle.”

“So was mine,” said Albus softly. “So you’re saying—am I—like you?”

“Actually, I think you’re more like your mum—bold, fierce, funny—which I like—which I think makes you a pretty great son.”

Albus hung his head, feeling undeserving of the compliment. “I almost destroyed the world.”

They came to a stop in front of an immaculate grave. Harry put his hands on Albus’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Delphi wasn’t going anywhere Albus—” he assured him, “you brought her out into the light and you found a way for us to fight her. You may not see it now, but you saved us.”

“But shouldn’t I have done better?” he argued.

“You don’t think I ask myself the same question?” Harry rebutted.

Albus’s stomach twisted as he fought himself to say aloud, “And then—when we caught her—I wanted to kill her.”

“You watched her murder Craig, you were angry, Albus, and that’s okay,” Harry insisted. “And you wouldn’t have done it.”

Albus found himself fighting back tears. “How do you know that?” he asked, his voice thick with shame. “Maybe that’s my Slytherin side. Maybe that’s what the Sorting Hat saw in me.”

“I don’t understand your head, Albus—” said Harry, and then with a thought, he corrected himself, “actually, you know what, you’re a teenager, I shouldn’t be able to understand your head, but I do understand your heart.” Harry beamed with pride. “I didn’t—for a long time—but thanks to this—‘escapade’—I know what you’ve got in there. Slytherin, Gryffindor, whatever label you’ve been given—I know— _know_ —that heart is a good one—yeah, whether you like it or not, you’re on your way to being some wizard.”

“Oh I’m not going to be a wizard,” joked Albus, “I’m going into pigeon racing. I’m quite excited about it.”

Harry grinned. “Those names you have—they shouldn’t be a burden. Albus Dumbledore had his trials too, you know—and Severus Snape, well, you know all about him—”

“They were good men,” stated Albus.

“They were great men,” agreed Harry, “with huge flaws, and you know what—those flaws almost made them greater.”

Albus looked around as though he only just realised where he was. “Dad? Why are we here?”

“This is where I often come,” answered Harry.

“But this is a graveyard...”

“And here is Cedric’s grave.”

Harry faced the large marble tombstone and approached it slowly. The tombstone rested in a recess of the hillside and veiled by the most fantastical of flowers. Albus followed his father nervously.

“Dad?” wondered Albus, his stomach in knots.

Harry asked solemnly, “The boy who was killed—Craig Bowker—how well did you know him?”

“Not well enough,” admitted Albus.

“I didn’t know Cedric well enough either,” said Harry, ashamed. “He could have played Quidditch for England. Or been a brilliant Auror. He could have been anything. And Amos is right—he was stolen. So I come here. Just to say sorry. When I can.”

Albus stood next to his father. “That’s a—good thing to do.”

“But I wanted to come here today for another reason,” Harry explained. He dug into his robes and pulled out a wand that was unlike his own.

“Is that... ?” Albus wondered.

“Ash and unicorn hair. Twelve and a quarter inches. Cedric Diggory’s wand,” revealed Harry. “We found it on a Death Eater when we raided Theodore Nott’s hiding place. Amos very kindly asked of me the honour to bring it here.”

Harry laid Cedric’s wand at his grave. He waved his own wand, and Cedric’s began to sink into the ground. Harry touched his son’s shoulder and looked up at the sky.

“I think it’s going to be a nice day,” observed Harry.

Albus smiled. “So do I.”


End file.
